A Dangerous Game
by RhymeAndReasonxox
Summary: With the factory roof investigation looming, the finger is firmly pointed at Nick and Carla. Will the real culprit be brought to justice or will an innocent person go down for murder? The clock is ticking and unlikely alliances form in an effort to uncover the truth. But searching for answers is a dangerous game. Will those who play with fire get their fingers burnt?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This story focuses on the factory roof collapse and takes place the day after Carla and Peter return from Carlisle. With the investigation coming to an end, suspicions are firmly pinned on Nick and Carla. Will the wrong person go down for murder or will the true culprit be brought to justice? This is mainly a Carla and Peter story but Nick, Tracy, Michelle, Gary and Leanne feature heavily. There'll be plenty of other familiar faces, but I don't want to spoil anything! **

* * *

Chapter 1- Making Amends

In the kitchen Roy was rustling up a full English. Normally he'd be busy opening up the café by now, and Carla wondered what the occasion was. Peter sat at the table with a coffee, leisurely flicking through the morning paper. He lowered his paper with a smile when he saw her approach. "Morning, love. It's about time you got up."

"Excellent timing indeed," said Roy, who motioned with his spatula for her to take a seat.

At the table Carla found her pills waiting for her. They'd been removed from their packaging and counted out in the correct dosage, ready for her to with a glass of orange juice.

She swallowed them down then proceeded to check her phone for messages, something she'd gotten back in the habit of doing now she knew there was no one spying on her through it.

An email from her solicitor sat waiting in her inbox.

"I could get used to this every morning," Peter said as Roy loaded three rashes of bacon onto his already crowded plate. "Not sure my arteries could though," he added with a chuckle.

"It's hardly healthy," agreed Roy, "but I'll allow it this once in celebration of your return home."

"Love, are you going to put that away?"

The question prompted Carla to look up from her phone. Realising she was being rude, she set it aside. "Sorry, I was just reading an email from my solicitor confirming that the transaction's gone through. It's official folks, I'm no longer a shareholder at Underworld."

Roy took a seat at the table. "Well, I think what you've done is very generous."

"A bit too generous if you ask me," Peter muttered under his breath before catching the glare in Carla's eye. "But like I said yesterday, it's your decision and I'll support you no matter what."

Eager to change the subject, Roy asked, "So do either of you have any plans for the day?"

Peter swallowed his mouthful. "I was thinking of heading over to Streetcars this afternoon to see if they've got any shifts going. Now the factory's gone we've got to have money coming in from somewhere."

"That's probably wise," said Roy. "Carla, what about you? Anything on the agenda?"

"I've got a few things on my to-do list."

Her vague answer sparked Peter's curiosity. "Like what, love?"

Before she could elaborate, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Ah, that'll be Scott," said Roy, going to answer it. However it wasn't Carla's key worker who walked through the door, but Nick Tilsley. He marched over to the table and sneered down at the domestic display before him.

Peter slammed down his knife and folk, eyes rolling in dismay, "What do you want?"

Nick stood there, arms folded, brow furrowed, a clear indication that he wasn't in the best of moods. "I bumped into Beth this morning. She was mouthing off about how she's now a shareholder at the factory. Care to fill me in?"

Nick's eyes were firmly on Carla as he awaited an explanation.

The news that she had gifted away her shares was bound to spread like wildfire yet Carla had been hoping for a little more time before it reached Nick's ears. Still, now he knew, there wasn't any point in denying it. She lowered her knife and fork. "Look, I know you're angry, but I was trying to do a good thing, alright?"

Nick laughed but there was no humour in it. "So it's true? I thought Beth was all talk as usual but you're actually telling me it's true? You sold your shares to that lot! It must be true what people are saying, you really have lost the plot."

"Oi!" Peter had risen slightly out of his chair. He snarled at Nick like an attack dog awaiting its order to pounce. "Any more talk like that and I'll chuck you down them stairs, got it?"

Carla did her best to diffuse the rising tension. "Nick, we both know I can't work at the factory anymore. Too much has happened. At least this way the staff get compensation for what I put them through and I get to walk away with peace of mind."

"How noble of you! Well, I hate to rain on your parade but you can't just sell your shares. As your business partner I'm legally entitled to first refusal, so you can tell Beth and the others to hold back on the big-spending because this sale isn't going through."

"It already has."

Carla glared at Peter for his unwanted interruption, but she knew where Nick was concerned Peter couldn't help himself.

"What's he talking about?" Nick demanded. "What's going on?"

Carla closed her eyes before meeting his gaze. "I got an email from my solicitor just now confirming the deal's gone through. I've got nothing to do with the business anymore, Nick."

Nick recoiled and blinked furiously. "What? How? What you've done is downright illegal!"

"It's not actually. You see, I didn't sell my shares, I gifted them. It's all above board. Check your paperwork if you don't believe me."

Nick was silent as he knew she had him beat.

Peter couldn't resist sticking the boot in. "Now, as you can see, we're in the middle of our breakfast here and your ugly mug's putting me off eating it, so if you wouldn't mind shutting the door on your way out."

Nick's furious gaze shifted between the couple. "You haven't heard the last of this! My solicitor will be in touch by the end of the day. Enjoy your breakfast."

With those parting words, he stormed out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Nick stormed into his flat and threw his briefcase onto the kitchen counter, knocking an empty glass into the sink. It smashed and startled Leanne who was sat watching cartoons with Oliver on the couch. "What was that?!" she gasped.

Nick paid her no notice and grabbed the milk from the fridge and glugged it straight from the carton.

"You give Simon hell for doing that," Leanne scolded him as she came over. She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. "What's up with you? Has something happened?"

He slammed the carton down on the counter. "Where do you want me to start? I'm facing prison for stealing gran's money, my family hates me, oh, and to top it all off, the entire street thinks I killed Rana!"

"Alright, there's no need to bite my head off!"

Nick closed his eyes and gripped the counter to steady himself. Everything had become such a mess and he could feel himself cracking under the strain of it all. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "It's been one of those mornings, that's all."

Leanne sighed with mild irritation. "What's happened now?"

"Carla's only gone and gifted away her share of the factory."

Leanne frowned. "Gifted away? Gifted away to who?"

He listed them off with his hand. "Beth, Sean, Sally, Izzy— the factory lot, that's who! How could she do something so stupid, so impulsive without even consulting me!"

Leanne was silent a moment. "Is it really such a bad thing? I mean, you can hardly blame her for wanting out of the place. That factory's brought her nothing but grief. At least this way she's out of your hair."

Nick laughed miserably. "Every cloud eh?"

He sighed, shoulders sagging with defeat. "I don't know, Lee… it's just with the investigation underway, I wanted us to be a united front, not just for the girls, but for the sake of the business, you know? At times like this you're supposed to pull together and she's gone and pressed the eject button. Underworld's already on its knees. Without Carla, it will go to the dogs…"

"From what I've heard, Sarah's been doing a pretty good job keeping the place ticking over. Everything will be alright, Nick. You'll see."

He shook his head dismissively at her attempt to reassure him. "Let's face it. I'm going to prison."

"It won't come to that," she said fiercely.

"How do you know? If I'm not banged up for stealing gran's money, I'll be banged up for dropping a roof on Rana's head. Either way, I'm finished."

Leanne grasped his chin with gentle fingers and forced him to meet her eyes. "Now you listen to me. You might've stolen that money but you had absolutely nothing to do with that roof falling down."

"Prove that can you?" At her silence, he continued sadly, "I didn't think so. They're going to pin this on me one way or another, I can feel it."

* * *

Carla was on her way to the pub when she found herself pausing outside the ruins of the factory. Rana's faded picture still clung to the railing. The shrine of flowers had gotten smaller, a sign that people were beginning to move on. Carla wondered if she would ever be able to move on. She didn't think so. Every time she passed this building she would be reminded of the young life that was crushed to death beneath it.

She laid a bouquet of white roses against the railing. Tears stung her eyes as her fingers traced over Rana's smiling face. "I'm so sorry."

Getting to her feet, she cast a wary look at the building ahead. What had once been her mighty empire now stood like a tomb. All she saw when she looked at it was pain and misery and death. It was a relief to finally be free of it.

"Brings it all back, doesn't it?"

She turned at the approaching voice and Aliyah came and stood beside her. "I heard you were back. I wanted to come over but I didn't think you'd want to see me…" There was a nervous pause. "Carla, I'm so sorry or sending you those horrible messages. It was an unforgivable thing to do. I don't know what came over me, I was just so angry—"

"Aliyah, it's forgotten. You were grieving. And grief makes us do all sorts of things we normally wouldn't."

"So… we're okay?"

Carla offered a kind smile. "It's time we all tried to move on. And holding grudges helps nobody do that."

"Thank you." Aliyah's gaze lingered on the factory a moment longer before she turned away. As she passed, she lightly touched Carla's arm. "Take care of yourself, yeah?"

"You too."

* * *

It was a quiet afternoon in the Rovers but the atmosphere died completely when Carla walked in. She ignored the glaring looks from punters as she walked up to the bar where her sister was serving. Kate wasn't concentrating on the pint she was pulling and it spilt over. She apologised to the customer before getting them another. She stared at her sister, eyes cold, arms folded defensively. "What are you doing here? Dad and Jenny are away, you know that."

"It's you I came to see."

"Me? Why?"

"To talk. In private."

In the backroom Kate sat on the sofa whilst Carla remained standing. Carla felt like she needed permission to sit. It might have been her father's home but she felt very much like an outsider. An uneasy silence hung between them. Their relationship had changed so much since Rana's death that Carla wasn't sure they could ever get back what they had before. Kate ended the silence before it became deafening. "So how are you?"

"I'm not seeing dead people anymore," Carla said in an effort to relieve some of the tension. "And I don't think the neighbours are plotting to kill me, so that's a start I guess. More importantly though, how are you?"

Kate lowered her gaze. She picked at the bobbles on the cushion in her lap and shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you know."

"I don't know. Tell me."

Kate shrugged again. "I'm keeping busy. Someone's got to run this place whilst dad and Jenny are away."

She was trying to appear strong and uncaring but Carla saw through the act. "It's okay to be mad at me, you know."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why can't you look at me?"

Slowly Kate lifted her eyes to meet Carla's and her tough exterior crumbled into a sea of tears. "Why Rana? Why did she have to die?"

"I don't know, darlin'."

Kate hugged the pillow tighter and buried her face into it to muffle her cries so the punters wouldn't hear. Instinct took over and Carla rushed to her side and pulled her into her arms. She was relieved when Kate didn't pull away. She rocked Kate gently and kissed the top of her head. "I just want her back," Kate sobbed. "I want things to go back to the way they were."

A salty tear ran down Carla's cheek. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

Suddenly Kate pulled away. "This is all your fault! You should've closed the factory!"

More tears fell as guilt tore at Carla. "I'm so sorry. I'd give anything to put this right. Lord knows, if I could go back and do things differently, I would."

"But you can't! You can't change it!...I should hate you!"

Carla wished for the ground to swallow her up, wished it had been her to die instead of Rana. It should have been her. It was her factory after all.

She wiped her eyes and got to her feet. The whole point of coming here had been to make peace, not start another war. "I should go. I never should've come."

She was halfway out the door when Kate called her back. Her sister sat upright with a steely expression. "I'm glad you're okay, truly I am, but things can't ever be the same between us. You might not have sabotaged that roof but you still knew it was dangerous and you did nothing…That's something I can never forgive."

* * *

"Come on Nick, _think._ What have they got on you?"

It was an hour until Nick's interview with the police and Leanne was helping him devise a strategy.

"Well, for starters there's the stolen structural report that wound up under our bed. I can't explain that away."

Leanne nodded. "Okay, what else?"

"It's common knowledge I stole from my gran and blamed it on a dead man. I've got a reputation for being a crook and a liar. They're going to think if he's capable of robbing his own flesh and blood without blinking an eye, what else is he capable of… sabotaging a factory roof?"

Nick's recent behaviour certainly didn't paint him in the best light, yet Leanne was determined to find a way to prove his innocence.

"Okay, so apart from you, who else knew the roof was unsafe? Carla knew, right?"

He nodded. "Gary too. It was just the three of us."

"Then surely it has to be one of you that did it," she concluded. "Do you think Gary could've done it?"

"I've thought about it. He's a builder, he's got the skillset, but what I keep coming back to is motive. Gary had nothing to gain from the roof falling down. What's more, he was the one pressuring Carla to get it fixed."

"So Carla then?"

"I don't know. She's devious, yes, but I can't see her climbing up the scaffolding in a pair of Jimmy Choo's, can you?"

"I'm glad you're finding this funny."

"I'm not," he said. "All I'm saying is there's no way Carla climbed on that roof and sabotaged it herself. That's not to say she didn't pay someone to do it for her."

Leanne liked his way of thinking. "If she was behind it that would explain a lot. For starters, her mental breakdown. She's been through way worse than this in the past, so why was this the thing to push her over the edge? It doesn't make sense. Unless she got someone to tamper with the roof— only it backfired, Rana died, and the guilt of killing her sister's fiancé pushed her to breaking point. Now _that_ makes sense."

It was a credible theory. Convincing too. But no matter how much Nick resented Carla for past wrongdoings, he couldn't deny that at her core she was a decent person, far too decent to ever pull a stunt like that.

Leanne could see him drifting off into his thoughts and she grabbed his face with both hands. "Nick, going down for theft is one thing. But going down for murder is a whole different ball game. You'd be facing life in prison. I know you care about Carla, but the police are going to charge someone, and with the way things are looking, it might come down to you or her. So whatever feelings you might've had for her in the past, you need to let them go and focus on what's really important here…our family. I need you here, not rotting away in some prison cell. It's time to fight dirty. So at your interview later, you need to shift their suspicions onto someone else. Understand?"

* * *

At the sound of the door, Peter's head jolted around. He jumped off the sofa and charged towards her, eyes wide and nostrils flaring, chest heaving with panic. "Where the hell have you been? You've been gone ages! I was about to call a search party together!"

Carla was taken aback by the bombardment of questions. Was this her home or the police station?

"I went to see Kate."

"Why didn't you answer your phone? Would a simple text to say you're alright have gone amiss? I've been worried sick!"

"I left it charging in the bedroom…"

She watched him frantically pace about. She'd only been gone an hour. Why had he gotten himself into such a state?

"Peter, I'm sorr—"

He turned away and stalked over to the sofa. He sank onto it with a defeated sigh and dropped his head in his hands. After a moment or two, he spoke. "No… I'm the one who's sorry."

Carla came and sat beside him, which prompted him to lift his head. Dark circles rimmed his sunken eyes. All the sleepless nights spent fretting over her had taken its toll.

"I hate being like this," he confessed. "On edge all the time. I feel like I'm smothering you. It's just that when I don't know where you are I panic."

With all that she had been through, it was easy to forget Peter had been through an ordeal himself. He was there during the fallout of the factory and had watched helplessly as her mental health deteriorated. He'd searched the streets day and night when she was missing, not knowing if she was alive or dead, and he'd abandoned rehab, turned his back on his recovery, to be by her side. He'd put up with the insanity of microchips and hidden cameras. And he had been the one to save her on the fire escape. Her ribs still ached from the force of which he'd held onto her as she threatened to jump to her death.

After all that, of course he would panic when he came home to an empty flat. Of course he'd panic when she didn't answer the phone. How was he to know she wouldn't try to do something stupid again?

She was reminded of something Scott had said to them that morning; the road to recovery wasn't hers to walk alone, but a road they must walk together.

With that in mind, she reached for his hand. "You're right. I should've taken my phone. I should've let you know where I was. I'm sorry."

His hand squeezed hers back and she knew that all was forgiven.

Minutes floated by as they lay on the sofa, silent, content in each other's arms, the argument long forgotten about.

"How did it go at Streetcars?"

Gentle fingers stroked her hair. "Tim's got a few shifts available. He said I can start as early as tomorrow."

"And you said?"

"I said I'd think about it."

She lifted her head off his chest to face him. "What's there to think about, Peter? Call him back and tell him you'll do it."

"But what about you? Are you sure you're going to be alright here on your own all day?"

Once again, his anxieties were creeping in.

"I'll be fine," she insisted. "Roy's here to keep an eye on me. Besides, it'll do you good to get back into a normal routine."

"Alright," he said, backing down. "You win. I'll give him a call later."

Satisfied, she laid her head back on his chest and closed her eyes.

"How did it go with Kate today?"

She sighed heavily. She had hoped he wouldn't ask. "It went about as well as can be expected. She's glad I'm better but said that things can't ever be the same between us."

"That's just the grief talking. She loves you really. You'll patch things up. These things just take time."

"Yeah…" Although Carla wasn't convinced. No amount of time would erase the loss of Rana nor lessen its sting.

They had fallen back into a comfortable silence when a knock at the door forced them apart. Peter growled with annoyance as he went to answer it. "If it's Nick or his flamin' solicitor, so help me God I'll…"

Luckily it was only Sally Webster and world war three was avoided. She walked in carrying a basket that was nearly the size of her and set it down on the table before her arms gave in.

Carla watched her from the sofa, stifling a giggle. "Sal, what is that?"

Sally lifted aside the checkered cloth, revealing an assortment of prettily packaged food. "It's a hamper! There's jam, pickles, biscuits— all lovingly made by yours truly."

"I don't understand," Carla said. "Has Christmas come early, what's the occasion?"

"To ensure you make a full recovery it's important that you eat properly," Sally lectured her. "Also, it's my way of saying thank you for what you've done for me and the girls. I know how much that factory meant to you and what it must've taken to let it go."

Despite how insufferably annoying Sally could be at times, they'd formed an unlikely friendship over the years, one that had been strengthened by ordeals such as Frank and Sally's cancer. That's why it had hurt Carla so deeply when Sally turned her back on her after the roof collapsed. After everything they had been through together, Carla had hoped for a little loyalty. Still, since returning from Carlisle Sally had more than made up for it.

Carla smiled. "Thanks, Sal."

"This was dead thoughtful of you," said Peter, who had started rummaging through the hamper. He held up a packet of gingernut biscuits. "I'll have one of these with a brew later."

"You're welcome," Sally smiled. "I'll leave you both to enjoy the rest of your evening." At the door, she paused and turned back to Carla. "I hope this goes without saying but if you need anything, anything at all, you know where I am. You might not be my boss anymore but I'd like to think we're friends."

Carla's heart swelled a little at the sentiment. "Definitely."

Having made peace with Aliyah and Sally felt like a giant weight had been lifted. She still had a long way to go before earning Kate's forgiveness, but it was a start.

* * *

In the dimly lit interview room, Nick sat across from Detective Beckett.

"So Mr Tilsley, if you're so certain it wasn't you who sabotaged the roof, any idea who did?"

Leanne's voice played in his head: _'It's time to fight dirty… shift their suspicions onto someone else. Understand?'_

He leaned across the desk and spoke with unwavering confidence. "Yes. Carla Connor."

* * *

**Author's note: So that's chapter one, a bit of a slow burn, but I promise things will begin to pick up. So Nick's trying to pin the blame on Carla? That surely can't end well... **

**If you enjoyed this and would like to read more, please leave me a review. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thank you to everybody who left a review! Really appreciate it. **

* * *

Chapter 2 – Pointing the finger

The next morning Carla was brought to the station for questioning. She had been assured it was nothing formal, just a catch up to ensure everybody was on the same page about the investigation, so she turned down the offer of a solicitor. But as she sat across from Detective Beckett and watched her flick meticulously through the case file on her desk, she got the sense it was very formal indeed.

Beckett started the recording and gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Mrs Connor it's good to see you looking so well. As you know, the clock is ticking on the investigation and Rana Habeeb's family want answers. So how about we cut to the chase? When we last spoke, you admitted to knowing the roof was unsafe. You claimed the only other person to know of the roof's condition was a builder you consulted. A builder, might I add, you've been unable to identify. Is this all correct so far?"

Carla nodded, then remembering it was a recording, verbalised her answer with a distinct 'Yes'.

"What about your business partner Mr Tilsley? Was he not aware of the roof's condition?"

Carla had promised Nick and Gary to keep their names out of it and she intended to honour that promise. "No."

Beckett gave her a long, scrutinising look. "How strange… that's not what he told us. Mr Tilsley alleges on the day before the roof collapsed you told him the roof needed repair work. Did that conversation take place or is he lying?"

Carla wasn't sure why Nick had voluntarily implicated himself but one thing was certain; now she would look like a liar for changing her story.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Come to think of it, I might've mentioned some work needed doing but I wasn't aware how urgent it was."

There was an unnerving pause.

"See? Now we're getting somewhere." Beckett peered down at her notes before firing off another question. "Is it fair to say that your business was under financial strain?"

"Every business goes through rough patches but I suppose we were feeling the strain more than usual, yes."

"In fact, business was so bad that the place was on the brink of closure. Which is why you came up with a plan to outsource production. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Behind the backs of your workforce and business partner?"

"Yes."

"I imagine there was quite a backlash when they discovered your plans?"

Carla shrugged. "They were angry, understandably. That's why they were in the factory that day, they were staging a protest. The place was closed. No one should've been in there at all."

Beckett leaned forward, a grin appearing on her face as if she enjoyed what she was about to ask next. "You and Mr Tilsley were more than just business partners at one stage, weren't you Mrs Connor? You were married but the marriage ended rather abruptly. Why was that?"

"I don't see what my marriage has to do with anything," Carla snapped defensively, angered such a personal matter had been brought up. Still, she had enough experience with police interviews to know that nothing was off bounds.

"It's relevance will become clear. For now could you please just answer the question."

Carla pursed her lips, reluctant to answer. "It was my fault," she admitted finally. "I cheated on him."

"So I take it there's no love lost between you?"

"None whatsoever."

"Then why go into business together?"

Carla gave an exasperated laugh. "It's not like I had much of a choice! My business partner at the time sold his shares to Nick behind my back."

Beckett searched through her notes. "Your business partner at the time being Peter Barlow, correct?"

Someone had done their homework, Carla thought.

"Yes. That's right."

"That must've stung. Peter selling out to your embittered ex like that. How did you react?"

"I was hardly over the moon about it," Carla said sarcastically. "But what could I do? The deal was done."

Beckett scribbled something down in her notes. Carla craned her neck to see what she was writing but the notepad was angled perfectly out of view. Then, lowering her pen, Beckett leaned across the desk. "I have a theory I'd like to put to you. You said yourself that you were planning on outsourcing production, so you would agree that the factory itself was no longer of use to you?"

Carla shook her head. "I would've still kept the factory as a packing and distribution centre."

Beckett raised a sceptical brow. "Really? If you were planning on outsourcing to Milton Keynes it seems rather impractical to have your packing and distribution centre in Manchester. Wouldn't you agree? Admit it, the factory was as much of an inconvenience to you as your business partner Mr Tilsley. You wanted rid. So you came up with a plan to get the place off your hands and ensure you got a big insurance pay-out that you could put towards your new business venture— a venture that Mr Tilsley was not a part of."

Beckett sat back with a smug look on her face that Carla wanted to wipe off. "So what do you think? Am I close?"

Hands clapped in a slow, belittling fashion. "Wow. Compelling stuff. Really. It's a shame none of it's true."

Beckett didn't take too kindly to being mocked. She opened up the case file on her desk and began flicking through its pages. "I had quite the evening reading about you," she said. "A rape case in which the accused was cleared of all charges. The murder of a young woman in which you were a prime suspect. And more recently a fire that originated in your flat and resulted in the deaths of two people. Trouble certainly has a way of following you doesn't it Mrs Connor?"

She continued wading through the file until she found what she was looking for. Her finger tapped on a highlighted segment. "What I found most interesting was an incident in 2006 involving the death of an immigrant worker at your factory..."

Carla's breath hitched. She stiffened. "That was an accident," she said a little too quickly. "She was carrying some boxes up the stairs and lost her footing. It could've happened to anyone."

Feeling her mouth dry up, Carla reached for the plastic cup of water on the desk. Her hand shook as she brought it to her lips. Some spilt as she set it down. "I'm sorry but I really don't see why you're bringing this up? It happened years ago and it's got nothing to do with my roof falling down."

Suspicion shone in Beckett's dark eyes. "I just thought it was worth mentioning."

Carla banged her fist on the desk. "Okay, enough! Guilty as charged for being a selfish cow who threw her workers under the bus. Guilty as charged for knowing the roof was unsafe and doing nothing about it. But read my lips. I did not. I repeat. I did NOT sabotage that roof!"

"Mr Tilsley seems to think you did."

"Well, of course he'd say that! I tried to swindle him out of his business, he's hardly my biggest fan! This is his way of getting even."

"Or perhaps he's onto something."

Carla threw her head back in frustration. "For the last time… I did not sabotage that flamin' roof!"

"Well somebody did. And if only you, Mr Tilsley and this mysterious builder you've been unable to identify knew of its condition, it's only natural to assume that one of you committed the crime. My job is to determine which one of you it was or whether all three of you were in on it together."

Carla fearlessly matched Beckett's intimidating stare. "I'd like to call my lawyer."

* * *

Carla had barely made it through the door before being drawn into Peter's arms. "Thank God you're home! You should've called me. I would've picked you up."

"An officer gave me a lift, it's fine."

"It's not fine, they kept you hours! They had no right doing that, not in your condition. I'm calling Scott. Let's see what he has to say about all this."

He stormed over to the landline.

Exhausted, Carla collapsed on the sofa. "Darlin', don't. I've had enough aggro for one day."

Peter was midway through dialling the call when he reluctantly hung up. He joined her on the sofa and propped a supportive arm around her. "So how did it go at the station?"

"Oh, Peter, it was awful," she said, massaging her temples. "That Detective thinks I did it."

"Did she actually say that?"

"She didn't have to. It was written all over her face."

"But why would she think that? You held your hands up to knowing the roof was unsafe so why do they still think you're lying?"

"Because good old Nick's been telling tales. He's got them convinced that I messed with the roof for the insurance pay-out so I could put the cash towards my new business venture."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Tell me about it. I had to sit there and listen to that kind of rubbish for hours on end."

He went to get up and Carla placed a hand on his knee. "Whoa, where do you think you're going?"

"To pay that jumped up mummy's boy a visit."

"No you're not," she said, pushing him back down. "You storming round there shouting the odds is only going to make things worse. Leave Nick to me."

* * *

Carla strutted past the rows of gawping machinists towards the back desk where Sarah was busy on the phone to a client. Sarah saw her approaching and quickly hung up. She gave a nervous smile at the woman towering above her. "Carla, this is a nice surprise…"

"You can relax. I haven't come to take my job back. I'm looking for your brother. Is he in?"

Sarah was about to answer when a small, chubby hand tugged on her sleeve. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she ducked her head below the desk. "Darling, mummy's working."

Intrigued, Carla peered under the desk and was shocked to see a toddler sat cross-legged on the floor with crayons on a colouring book. Harry's angelic face lit up with a gummy smile as he waved at her. Carla was too stunned to wave back. She lifted her head above the desk and stared at Sarah, eyes wide and blinking. "He's a bit young for work experience isn't he?"

Sarah had turned a deeper shade of red than the crimson lingerie set on the mannequin behind her. "I know how this looks but I promise you it's never happened before. Shona usually looks after him but she's busy working. Mum's got her hands full with David and Nick. And gran's not talking to anyone. I didn't know what else to do."

Carla realised what a difficult position she had put Sarah in. The poor woman had been left to run the place singlehandedly during such a chaotic time. "Sarah, if you're struggling—"

"I'm not."

"But if you are, I can always—"

"I'm not, honest. You've just caught me at a bad time."

It was no longer Carla's business so she had no right to pry. She cast her eyes around the crowded community centre. "So where's this brother of yours then? Why's he not helping man the fort?"

Sarah groaned. "I've been trying to get hold of him all morning but he's not picking up. Knowing him, he's probably at the police station. It's where he spends most of his time these days."

Right on cue, Nick walked in, briefcase in hand. He ignored the hellos from the girls and marched straight up to Carla. "What are you doing here? You gave away your shares, remember? You don't work here anymore."

"I know. It's you I came to see. We need to talk."

"No, we don't."

"Why are you trying so hard to pin the factory roof on me?"

He laughed. "Oh, that's what this is about? My interview with the police? Carla, it wasn't some personal vendetta against you. They asked me questions and I answered. That's how police interviews work. You should know, you've sat through enough of them."

"Well, whatever you said has got them thinking I sabotaged the roof!"

He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you did."

She shoved a pointed finger into his chest. "Excuse me but I'm not the one who laundered stolen money through the company account!"

"No, but you were happy enough to throw your workforce, me included, under the bus to start your new business empire in Milton Keynes!"

"It wasn't like that and you know it."

"That's exactly how it was and _you_ know it. You were looking out for number one as usual."

"Guys, keep it down," hissed Sarah. "The girls are starting to look over."

Nick and Carla were standing nose to nose. Their eyes were engaged in a stare-off that neither of them wanted to be the first to back down from. "So this is really what it's come to? Us trying to send the other down for murder?"

"You started it," Nick sniped.

"What do you mean I started it?!"

"By making business deals behind my back. You stuck the knife in first, Carla. I just returned the favour."

Carla shot him a look filled with disgust. "What did I ever see in you?"

"I've asked myself the same question."

"Right! That's enough!" They turned their heads at Sarah who had risen out of her chair. "Listen to yourselves, squabbling like a couple of kids. You're worse than Harry."

At hearing his name, the toddler stood up and Sarah lifted him onto her lap. Nick pointed aghast at his nephew. "Where did he come from?!"

"Don't change the subject," Sarah quipped.

After a brief silence, Carla spoke. "Sarah's right..." She leant over the desk and stroked her God son's chubby cheek. "I'm sorry for shouting, Harry."

"I know things are difficult at the moment but you need to act like grownups," said Sarah. "If you're both as innocent as you say you are then maybe it's time to stop pointing the finger at each other and pull together to find out who's really responsible." Sarah stood up, bouncing little Harry in her arms. "I'll leave you to talk in a _civilised_ manner."

Once she was out of earshot, Carla turned to Nick. "When did things get so bitter between us? I know you're still angry at me for going behind your back with the business, but telling the coppers you think I messed with the roof? Come on Nick, you're better than that. I know there's a good bloke in there somewhere."

Nick laughed as though she had said something funny. "A good bloke? Where has being a good bloke ever got me? People see it as a weakness, an excuse to walk all over you. Nobody wants a good bloke. Everybody loves a bad boy. That's why you slept with Robert and it's why you're back with Peter."

Carla could pretend it was about the factory but deep down she knew her betrayal with Robert was at the heart of Nick's grievance. Him bringing it up now only confirmed it. She still felt guilty for how things had ended between them, for the hurt she had caused him. And hearing him speak about it now brought all that buried guilt back to the surface.

She softened a little. "Nick…"

Just when she thought he was about to open up, that the Nick she used to know and love was coming through and showing his vulnerable side, his defences sprung up and he jumped back into attack mode.

"That's why I've changed," he said coldly. "Mr Nice guy's gone. It's time to face facts here, Carla. One of us is going down for this. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure it's not me."

Carla was about to fire back with an equally biting remark when Sean shouted over from his machine. "Look sharp! PC Plod's here!"

They looked over and were mortified to see Detective Beckett watching them from the doorway. Carla dreaded to think how long she'd been standing there, though she imagined it was for quite some time.

"Which one of us have you come to take away this time?" Nick asked.

"I'm here to see you, Mr Tilsley."

Nick hadn't been expecting her to say that and he took several steps back. "Me? Why? What for?"

"Just a chat down at the station."

"But we spoke yesterday. At length!"

"I know but something's come up and we'd like to speak to you again. Unless, of course, you've got more important things to be getting on with?"

Nick smiled through gritted teeth. "Not at all. Lead the way."

* * *

Carla and Peter walked hand in hand down the dark, cobbled street. "I'm just wondering what could've possibly come up for them to want to speak to him again, that's all."

"I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about it, love. Nick was happy to throw you in the firing line. Hopefully he's getting a taste of his own medicine. Anyway, enough about him, let's enjoy our evening eh?"

At Carla's nervous smile, Peter stopped walking. His brown eyes fixed her with concern and his hand reached out, framing an exquisite cheekbone. "What's up? You're nervous about tonight, aren't you?"

She lowered her gaze. "And I thought I was doing such a good job at hiding it."

"You've got nothing to be nervous about. It's only dinner at my dad's."

"I know, but I was so rude to Ken..."

"Darlin', you were ill. He knows that."

His thumb stroked her cheek and he leaned in, kissing her softly. They carried on down the dimly lit street. When they arrived outside number one, Peter squeezed her hand before ringing the doorbell. "Just take a deep breath," he told her.

Moments later the door opened and Tracy appeared. Tracy's carefree smile dropped the instant she laid eyes on them. "Oh great, it's you two."

The couple exchanged confused looks. "What are you doing here?" The question came out far more accusatory than Peter intended. "Dad didn't say anything about you coming for dinner."

"Chill out, I'm not staying, I only came to pick up Amy's trainers…" A devious smile crept up on Tracy's face. "On seconds thoughts, now I'm here, I might as well stay."

The three of them entered the living room and Ken rose from his armchair with a welcoming smile and pulled Carla into his arms. "It's lovely to see you! I'm glad you could both make it." Eccles ran from her basket, tail wagging, collar jingling, and jumped up at Carla's leg. Ken chuckled. "See? Even Eccles has missed you!"

Ken told them to make themselves comfortable whilst he went into the kitchen to make the tea. He returned with a tray of tea and set it down on the table before retaking his seat. He smiled over at the couple who were seated in each other's arms on the sofa. "So Carla, how are you?"

She smiled shyly. "Much better than I was thanks, Ken."

"On a scale of 1-10, how crae-crae did you go? Are we talking Mary's level psycho or full-blown Norman Bates?"

Carla pursed her lips in mild irritation. "I wasn't knifing people in showers if that's what you're asking, Tracy."

Peter glared at his sister to back off but it only encouraged her more. "It must've been terrifying for you, babe. You must've been walking around like that weird kid from the _Sixth Sense._ What's that line he says? Oh yeah, 'I see dead people'."

"Shut up, Tracy. For once in your life."

"Your brother's right," said Ken. "Mental health is no laughing matter."

Tracy's eyes rolled theatrically in their sockets. "Oh lighten up you two! You've got to laugh in the face of adversity haven't you babe?"

Carla said nothing, though she entertained the thought of walking up to Tracy and punching her square in the face. The entire room breathed a visible sigh of relief when Tracy stepped outside to take a phone call.

Ken shot a glance over at the kitchen to make sure Tracy had gone out the backdoor before turning back to Carla and Peter. "I can only apologise for Tracy. Please ignore her."

Carla smiled. "Don't worry, Ken. I always do."

Now that Tracy was out of the way, Ken felt they could talk properly. "So how are you really? Physically you look fine but I know appearances can be deceptive."

Carla squeezed Peter's hand. "I'm getting there," she said. "There's no quick fix for these things, unfortunately. It's going to take time. But with the help of professionals, medication and your lovely son here, I'm well on the road to recovery."

"That's brilliant."

There was a brief silence and Carla awkwardly cleared her throat. "Ken... I err just wanted to apologise for the way I spoke to you when I was staying here. You were just trying to help and I was so rude."

"Nonsense. You were unwell."

Peter nudged her. "Told you he'd understand."

Ken clicked his fingers as if suddenly remembering something. "By the way, I've invited Sarah and Adam to join us tonight if that's alright?"

Carla knew the question was directed at her, and she smiled. "Of course. The more the merrier."

"So are Adam and Sarah officially an item now?" Peter asked his father. "What about Gary?"

"I'm yet to hear all the details but from what I gather it's a touchy subject so best not bring it up at the dinner table."

Tracy reappeared having caught the latter end of their conversation. "I can't blame Sarah for ditching Gary," she said as she sat down. "She's only human after all. I mean, the ginger whinger or the Scottish rogue? It's a no brainer."

Peter grimaced. "That's your nephew you're talking about there, Trace."

"And that makes me blind? What's wrong with saying he's good-looking? I'm not saying I want to rip his clothes off, am I? No, that's more Carla's style. Speaking of which, has Michelle forgiven you yet for bedding Dr Ali?"

Carla should have known Tracy had used her time outside to reload her ammunition.

"Remind me, what were Liam and Paul to you again? Cousins, second cousins? Yeah, your lot sure like to keep it in the family."

Peter couldn't take any more of her sniping. "If all you're going to do is wind people up then why not do us all a favour and go home hey, Trace?"

"Alright! I was only having a laugh!"

"Do you see anybody laughing?"

Ken stepped in to referee the squabbling siblings. "That's enough, both of you! For one night can we all try to get along? Is that really too much to ask?"

Things had calmed down by the time Adam and Sarah arrived. The family sat around the table and Ken presented his signature stuffed marrow dish from the oven. Judging by the untouched plates, the dish was about as popular as when Diedre used to make it. At least the conversation was flowing.

"The girls think they rule the roost now they're shareholders," Sarah was saying. "It's a nightmare getting them to do any work."

Adam draped his arm over Sarah's chair. "Well, I think you're doing a terrific job over there."

Sarah blushed a little and gave a pointed nod at Carla. "I certainly learnt from the best."

Sarah's phone went off in her pocket and she politely excused herself before stepping out into the hallway to answer it. She returned mere moments later. "That was quick," Peter said as she retook her seat. "Any news on Nick?"

"Still down at the police station according to Bethany. The call cut out before I could get all the details. That's the trouble with new phones. You never know how to bleedin' work them!"

Sarah's seemingly innocent remark piqued Carla's interest. "New phone?"

Sarah nodded. "I lost my old one a few weeks back. So I bought this cheap thing to get me by until I find it."

Images flashed in Carla's mind of Gary standing over her bedside, rummaging through her bag and slipping a bright pink phone into his pocket. Was it a dream? A memory? Carla narrowed her eyes as she tried to make sense of it. "Your old phone had a pink case, right?"

"That's right," Sarah nodded. "Have you seen it?"

"Gary took it from my bag at the hospital."

Sarah and Adam shared uneasy looks, then Peter's hand came to rest upon Carla's shoulder. "Love, I think you're getting a bit confused. Gary wasn't at the hospital, remember. That was just your mind playing tricks."

"No, the pink phone. He took it from my bag," Carla insisted. "I remember bumping into him in the ginnel and he tried to take it from me then but I ran off so he came to the hospital."

Peter's voice was soft and soothing, almost as if speaking to a child. "Sweetheart, that was a hallucination. Just like Hayley and Aidan were."

Carla knew now that Hayley, Aidan and Rana had been hallucinations but this felt different somehow. She was about to argue her point when she caught the concerned faces eyeing her around the table; she had seen this look a hundred times before, from doctors, nurses, friends, strangers on the street…

The evening had been going so well and now she had gone and ruined it by opening her big mouth. Scaring everyone with her crazy thoughts. Why couldn't she have left it alone?

She looked down at her lap. "You're right, I'm sorry… I just got confused." Needing to escape, she stood suddenly, forcing a polite smile at Ken who sat at the head of the table. "Just nipping to the ladies room."

Peter waited until he heard her footsteps on the landing before speaking. "Sarah, don't take any notice of what she said. She still gets confused."

"She seemed pretty convinced to me," said Adam.

"That's the extent of her paranoia. It makes her believe she sees things that aren't there."

Sarah shivered at the thought. "Poor thing. It must've been terrifying for her."

"Yeah, she must really have been in a bad way if she was fantasising about Gary Windass!"

The others exchanged irritated looks as Tracy cackled hysterically. She always managed to find herself amusing even when others didn't.

Sarah, however, had become deeply unsettled. She flinched when Adam tapped her shoulder. The Scotsman eyed her carefully. "Are you alright sweetheart?"

She feigned a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Really, she was anything but. All she had was questions. What if Carla wasn't hallucinating? What if Gary had taken her phone from the hospital? More importantly, why? What was on that voicemail he had left her? Why didn't he want her to hear it?

* * *

**Author's note: Hmm... is Sarah about to rumble Gary?**

**If you enjoyed, please leave a review. Thanks again for reading. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Thanks so much to everyone who was kind enough to leave a review. It's great to know there are people out there who are enjoying the story. **

**This is a Nick centric chapter (sorry), but I promise it's all integral to the plot. Will Nick be the one to rumble Gary? **

**As always, thanks for reading. **

* * *

Chapter 3— Forming alliances.

Nick was keeping his head down at the community centre. He hoped that losing himself in his work would prove a distraction from his upcoming trial. But with the orchestra of strangled cats singing along to the radio and Sarah harping on about Adam Barlow every five minutes, he was finding it impossible to concentrate.

Sarah perched on the corner of his desk, stretching an elastic band between her fingers. He hadn't seen her do a stroke of work all morning, not that he was in any position to call her out for slacking. These last few weeks she had been the only one keeping the place afloat.

"Adam's taking me to this fancy restaurant tonight," she said. "It's Michelin starred and everything. Apparently celebrities go there."

"How nice for you." It was hard to celebrate other people's good fortune when his entire future hung in the balance.

Sarah pinged the elastic band and it hit him square in the chest. "You could try sounding pleased for me, you know."

"I'm sorry, Sarah, but I've got bigger things on my mind than your love life."

"No one made you steal gran's money."

The comment was meant to irk him but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he leaned back in his chair. "So you and Gary are over for good this time? See, I was listening."

For the first time that morning, her smile faded. "Yeah, it's over… for good."

"That's a shame. Gary wasn't the sharpest tool but he was better than a Barlow."

Sarah looked for another elastic band to fire at him. "I'll pretend you never said that. I'll have you know that Gary wasn't all sweetness and light. He put me through the wringer these last few months."

"How so?"

She was about to speak but faltered. "Oh, it's nothing. Forget it."

"No, go on."

Sarah glanced warily at the machinists who were too busy murdering Prince's Purple Rain to pay her any notice. She turned back to Nick and lowered her voice. "Fine. I'll tell you. But this has to stay between us. I mean it, Nick."

"You have my word."

"That doesn't count for much these days, does it?" Once again her eyes anxiously scanned the room, making doubly sure no one was listening in, before deciding it was safe to speak. "Okay, so it turns out Gary's money problems were worse than he'd been letting on. He was in serious debt to this loan shark. Rick Neelan his name was, a real nasty piece of work. He came by the house a few times and threatened to hurt me and the kids if Gary didn't pay up. The whole thing got way out of hand. I mean, what was Gary thinking, getting involved with people like that? Putting my kids in danger? He's made a lot of mistakes in the past, which I've forgiven, but this time he crossed the line."

Nick sat, speechless. "Sarah, I had no idea…"

"Why would you? Money problems aren't the sort of thing people shout from the rooftops."

Nick felt incredibly guilty. He had been so wrapped up in his own problems that Sarah's had gone entirely unnoticed.

He was her big brother. He was meant to protect her.

"Adam coming back into the picture took me by complete surprise…" Talking about the Scotsman seemed to perk her up a little. "He's funny, charming, worships the ground I walk on... and I suppose one thing led to another. But we never set out to hurt Gary. You have to believe me."

"Of course not."

Unlike him and David, Sarah didn't have a malicious bone in her body.

"Well, Gary doesn't see it that way. He thinks we're rubbing his nose in it every chance we get. You should've seen his face when he found out about us. I'd never seen him like that before…"

Her voice trailed off and her hand subconsciously brushed against her arm where a series of purple bruises peaked out from under her sleeve. When she caught him staring she tugged on her sleeve, hiding them from view.

But it was too late. Rage coursed through Nick at the thought of anyone laying a hand on his sister. Still, for Sarah's sake, he tried to remain calm. "Did Gary do that to you?... Sarah?"

Her silence answered for her.

Nick's heart broke for her and he reached across the desk for her hand. "Why didn't you say anything?"

She wrenched her hand away and wiped the tears that had fallen down her cheek. "Because our family's got enough going on without me adding to its problems."

"You need to report this to the police."

She shook her head fiercely. "Gary never meant to hurt me. He was upset, hurt, he lost control…"

"It's assault."

"You hit Leanne once."

"I had brain damage. What's Gary's excuse?"

Nick waited for an answer, a justification, but she went quiet again. Her eyes grew distant as her fingers circled over the bruises. "I'd never seen him like that before. It was like he was possessed. This rage took over, and that was it. For a moment I thought he was going to kill me. It almost makes me wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

Snapping out of her trance-like state, she shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Wonder what?"

He needed to know how that sentence would end.

"It almost makes me wonder if Gary was the one behind the factory roof."

He frowned. "Why would you think that?"

"Because he was desperate, Nick. He was probably hoping Carla would give him the job of replacing it. An expensive job like that would settle his debts and make all his problems go away."

"Sarah, that's quite a stretch."

"He already had access to the roof. And the skills and knowledge to bring it down."

"That still doesn't mean he did it."

"There's more. At dinner last night, Carla said that when she was hospitalised, Gary came into her room and took my phone from her bag."

"Whoa, rewind... what was your phone doing in Carla's bag in the first place?"

"She took a whole bunch of phones. It was part of her paranoia… don't ask. Anyway, that's not important. What's important is that she saw Gary take my phone."

Nick shook his head. "Sarah, you can't trust anything Carla says. She was out of her mind, she was seeing all sorts."

"Then explain to me how she could describe my phone in exact detail?"

"Because you share an office together! She's probably seen it in your hand enough times! And it's bright pink for God's sake!"

"No, it's more than that, I know it is. Gary went to the hospital and he took my phone from her bag because he didn't want me to hear the voicemail he'd left me."

Nick's confusion deepened. "Voicemail? What voicemail?"

"That's the thing. I never got to hear it because I never got my phone back."

It was clear Sarah had spent a great deal of time fixating on this and Nick felt cruel to simply dismiss the theory out of hand. He leaned back in his chair and studied her thoughtfully. "Okay, let's say for argument's sake that Carla had your phone and Gary went to the hospital and stole it back— none of that means he sabotaged roof. In case you've forgotten, Gary's got a rock-solid alibi for the morning the roof was tampered with. He was in bed with you."

"Was he?"

He laughed. "I should hope so! It's what you told the police!"

"I was asleep, Nick. He could've easily slipped out and I'd have been none the wiser." She saw the disbelief in her brother's eyes and shook her head adamantly. "I'm telling you he had something to do with it. I'd stake my life on it."

* * *

That afternoon Nick tried to get on with his work but he couldn't stop thinking about what Sarah had said. And the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that she was onto something…

A loud, deliberate cough snatched him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Beth Tinker hovering over his desk. "Something I can help you with?"

Beth shifted nervously on the spot and he noticed she was holding something behind her back. "Is there somewhere we can talk… in private?"

He gestured to cramped confines surrounding them. "This is as private as it gets, I'm afraid. What's this about?"

She revealed a digital camera from behind her back and set it down on the desk; it was the expensive kind professional photographers used. "I've been doing these photography classes as a side hobby. Kirky's got his music career so I wanted something of my own. And last week we had a group session where we showcase some of our work to other people in the group and—"

"Get to the point."

"Well…" She nodded down at the camera. "See for yourself."

Nick picked it up and peered at the black and white image already onscreen. It was of a lake and walkway distinctly that of the Red Rec. Then something in the background caught his attention. A jogger. He zoomed in, eyes narrowing at the blurred figure. "That was taken the morning the police reckon the roof was tampered with," Beth explained. "It's a bit blurred but I knew it was you right away. I've got a great eye, me. I asked the bloke who took the picture if I could borrow his camera to show you. This gives you an alibi, right? Gets you off the hook?"

Nick could hardly believe his luck. He had been telling the police for weeks that he was nowhere near the factory in the hours they claimed it was tampered with, but with no one to confirm his alibi, he found himself on rocky ground. Now, with this photograph, he had the stone-cold proof he'd been looking for. Things were finally looking up. He beamed up at Beth. "I could kiss you! You mind if I take this to the police station?"

"My mate doesn't need it back for a couple of weeks, so it's all yours."

He didn't wait around a second longer. Snatching the camera off the desk, he grabbed his coat and hurried past the rows of machinists. "I'll be back soon! Sally's in charge!"

* * *

He marched into Weatherfield police station and slammed the camera down on Beckett's desk like a hunter presenting his pray. The Detective looked up from her computer screen, arching her brow in a bemused fashion. "Mr Tilsley what is the meaning of this?"

"See for yourself."

A frown appeared on her face as she inspected the image on the camera's small screen. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at exactly?"

"That was taken the morning the roof was sabotaged." He pointed to the jogger in the background. "That's me, out running, like I said I was. So you can cross me off your suspect list because I've just hit you with a rock-solid alibi."

He waited smugly for her reply.

She handed him back the camera. "I'm sorry but I don't see how this gives you any such thing. The picture is blurred to the point I can't definitively say the person running is you, and even if it is, it still proves nothing. There's a large window of opportunity in which the perpetrator could have sabotaged the roof. Who's to say you didn't commit the crime before going on your morning run? Or afterwards? Have you got anything else?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then please stop wasting my time."

Her attention turned back to her computer screen and she continued typing as if the man standing before her was invisible.

Nick watched her in disbelief. "Is that seriously all you've got to say? You're just going to dismiss it! It's evidence!"

"It's flimsy. Now please leave or I'll have you escorted off the premises."

* * *

Despite being laughed out of the station, Nick refused to admit defeat. If Beckett refused to do her job properly then he would do it for her. He had spent the afternoon following Gary around Manchester. It turned out the builder led quite the double life because when he wasn't laying bricks he was parading the streets dressed as a car salesman, knocking on doors. Most of the time he got turned away, but on the rare occasion, he got invited inside.

Nick had been parked outside the same bungalow for almost an hour. He felt like a cop on a stakeout. A box of doughnuts and the look would be complete. Suddenly, there was movement. The front door opened and Gary stepped out of the bungalow and shook hands with an elderly woman on the doorstep. The woman headed back inside the house and Gary carried on down the street with a grin on his face.

Nick waited until Gary had turned the corner of the street before getting out of his car and knocking on the door of the bungalow. The elderly woman from before appeared in her dressing gown and fluffy slippers. "I'm very popular today," she said, adjusting her spectacles so she could get a better look at him. "You're the second young man to come knocking on my door. What can I do for you?"

"The gentleman that was here before," Nick began. "What was he trying to sell you?"

"A loan, dear."

He frowned. "A loan? Are you sure?"

"Quite sure, dear."

Sarah had said Gary was being hounded by loan sharks, not that he had become one. The mystery deepened.

Having got the information he needed, he gave a polite tilt of his head. "Well, thanks for your time. Sorry for bothering you."

"Not at all, dearie. Have a nice day."

The woman seemed so kind and trusting that Nick couldn't help but feel for her.

"A word of advice," he said as she went to close the door. "Don't take the loan. When something sounds too good to be true, that's usually because it is."

* * *

Nick pressed the buzzer a second time and footsteps hurried down the stairs. The door opened and Gary appeared, still dressed in his suit and tie. Surprise registered on the builder's face. "Oh, Nick…hi."

Nick looked him up and down and whistled appreciatively. "Wow. Nice suit. Been anywhere nice?"

"Oh, just a job interview in town." He nervously pulled at his tie. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Yes, actually there is," Nick said, looking past him towards the staircase that led up to the flat. "Can I come in?"

"Actually mate, I'm a little busy..."

"This won't take long. I promise."

Nick hadn't imagined Gary to be particularly house proud but the flat was like a student's hovel. Dirty dishes were stacked high in the sink and empty beers bottles and boxes of takeout festered on the kitchen tops.

"Sorry about all the mess," Gary said, a little embarrassed. "Life's been a bit hectic and I've not had a chance to get on top of things."

"I know the feeling," Nick laughed politely. He spotted something lying on the cluttered counter, something small and pink, and he frowned. "What's my sister's phone doing here?"

Gary followed his eyes to where a pink phone case poked out from under a pizza box and he nervously palmed his neck. "Oh, err, she lost it. I've been meaning to give it back to her but like I said, I've been busy."

"Pass it here. I'll give it back to her."

"No need," Gary said a little too abruptly for Nick's liking. "I've been meaning to speak with her anyway, so I'll give it to her then."

The fact Sarah's phone was in his flat proved that Carla's hallucination wasn't a hallucination at all. If Nick hadn't been suspicious of Gary before, he certainly was now.

"So what is it you came here for?"

The question snapped Nick from his thoughts and he quickly thought of a lie. "I just wanted to say in person how sorry I am to hear about the split. You and Sarah made a good couple. It's a shame things didn't work out better."

Gary gave a nonchalant shrug, as if the topic of Sarah meant nothing to him at all. "Yeah, well, I've learned that in life things don't usually work out as planned."

Nick got the impression he was talking about more than just his relationship.

Slowly, Nick began to edge towards the door. "Anyway, that's all I came to say. Leanne will be wondering where I am so I better be going."

Violence towards women, selling loans to the vulnerable; Gary had fallen down a slippery slope. But just how low had he sunk? Enough to sabotage a factory roof? Nick certainly thought so.

Outside on the empty, dimly lit street, he made a phone call. "I need to speak to you. It's important. Meet me in the Rovers backyard in ten minutes."

* * *

The Rovers backyard was a bleak picture in the dark. Nick had taken refuge under the smoker's shelter to escape the miserable downpour that beat down on the empty chairs and tables. He had been waiting almost an hour and was about to call it a night when the gate opened with a slow, unsettling creak and a figure skulked inside. The figure came and stood under the shelter where the string lights above illuminated his leather jacket and scowling face.

"What's all this about, Nick? What little game are you playing now?"

"No games. I need your help."

Ordinarily, Peter Barlow was the last person on earth he would come to for help. However, these were extraordinary circumstances.

Peter laughed mockingly. "My help? You need my help?"

"I know who sabotaged the roof."

The words tumbled out of Nick's mouth and wiped the smirk off Peter's face. He was silent. His eyes rounded on Nick as though trying to work out whether this was genuine or simply an attempt to mess with his head. "Who?"

"Gary."

Peter's nose crinkled with laughter. "Gary Windass? Gary Windass sabotaged the roof? Prove this can you?"

"Not yet. That's why I need your help."

He retrieved the camera from his briefcase.

"What's this, your new hobby?"

"Take a look at the photo on the screen," Nick said, holding it out to him.

Peter's thick brow knotted together as he squinted at the bright screen. "Lovely picture, Nick, but do you want to tell me why I'm staring at some geese?"

"Ignore the geese. Look at the runner in the background. Look familiar? That's me the morning of the roof collapse, out where I said I was, running."

"Have you shown this to the police?"

Blood rushed to Nick's cheeks as he recalled the embarrassing encounter at the police station. "I showed it to Detective Beckett but she said it wasn't solid enough to go on."

Peter handed it back to him. "Well, she's not wrong. That figure's so blurry it could be Mister Blobby out for a morning stroll for all I know. Is this really why you brought me out here? A flimsy photograph and to hurl accusations about? Goodbye, Nick."

Peter braced himself before stepping out into the rain.

"Peter… wait! Carla wasn't hallucinating. The stuff about Gary coming into her hospital room and stealing Sarah's phone from her bag? That really happened."

The words stopped Peter dead in his tracks. He turned slowly and headed back under the shelter. Getting right up close in Nick's face, he spoke in a threatening whisper, "What did you just say?"

"I went to Gary's flat today and Sarah's phone was there, which means he must've taken it from Carla's bag, which means she wasn't hallucinating."

The fact Peter was still standing there meant a part of him, however small, was interested in what Nick had to say.

"I know you can't stand me, and believe me, the feeling's mutual, but the simple fact is I didn't sabotage the roof. And I don't believe Carla did either. Apart from us, Gary was the only one who knew about the roof's condition. He had the access, the skills and the motive to bring it down."

"What motive?"

"He was out of work. In serious debt to loan sharks. He needed a job that would pay off his debts. Like replacing a factory roof for instance."

Peter lowered his head as he considered what Nick had to say.

"The police want this case closed," Nick continued matter-of-factly. "Carla and I are easy targets. They don't have to look any further when they can pin it all on us. If you don't want to see her behind bars then I need your help to bring the real perpetrator to justice before it's too late. So what do you say, are you in?"

* * *

Peter decided to keep quiet about his cosy meet up with Nick in the Rovers backyard. It was still early days into Carla's recovery and he wanted nothing to jeopardise it. Especially not unfounded accusations about Gary Windass. For all he knew, Nick was pointing the finger at Gary to shift suspicion off his own back.

Carla had changed into her pyjamas, her long, dark hair scraped off her face in a high ponytail. She was lying on the sofa, snuggled under a blanket. A mug of tea rested on her lap. She gave a tired smile when he walked through the door. "You're back late."

"Tell me about it," he laughed. He stepped out of his wet shoes and hung up his jacket. "I had an airport run and halfway through the journey the bloke realises he left his passport at home so we had to turn back. Total nightmare. Wouldn't be surprised if he missed his flight."

A customer really had done that so technically it wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the reason he was late.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," he said, walking over to her. He tapped her legs and she moved them aside so he could sit down. He slipped under the blanket and brought an arm around her, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "So what have you been up to today?"

"Same old, same old," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "But don't worry, Roy's been here to keep an eye on me."

She had added the last part because of how he had overreacted the other day.

"I wasn't worried," he said. "What I do worry about though is you being cooped up in this flat all day."

"Well, you might not have to worry about that for much longer. Michelle's asked me to give her a helping hand at the Bistro. Nothing too strenuous, just the odd shift here and there when it's not too busy."

The thought of Carla doing work of any kind made Peter anxious. She had come on leaps and bounds from the sorry state she was in before Carlisle, but it wouldn't take much to undo all that good work. At least at the Bistro Michelle would be there to look out for her. Michelle loved Carla as much as he did and would never have offered her the job if she didn't think she was up to it.

Pushing aside his anxieties, he smiled. "I think that sounds like a great idea, love."

He could tell by the surprised look on Carla's face that she had expected him to try and talk her out of it, to lecture her on the importance of her recovery and the harm unnecessary stress could do to it.

"That's sorted then," she said. "Speaking of Michelle, the wedding's this weekend so I thought we could pop into town and buy you a new suit. And a decent razor to shave off that scruff."

She tugged on his beard and he batted her hand away, stroking it protectively. "Oi! What's wrong with my beard?"

"Darlin, you've morphed from George Clooney into Captain Haddock. You'll need a pair of hedge cutters to trim that thing!"

"That's a bit harsh."

"Baby, sometimes the truth hurts." She sighed, a wistful smile sweeping over her face. "A wedding though, that's something to look forward to innit?"

"Yeah, it is."

After all the misery of the last few months, it was nice to finally have something to celebrate.

She suddenly became distracted by something behind him. "What's that?"

She nodded over to the kitchen where a digital camera sat on the table. Thinking on his feet, he said, "Oh, that's my dad's."

"I didn't know Ken was into photography."

"Kenneth Barlow's a man of many mysteries," he said, tapping his nose.

"So why do you have it?"

A mate from his alcohol support group worked on the graphics department of a magazine firm. Peter hoped he could enhance the quality of the photograph so anybody looking at it would be able to tell it was Nick and not some indistinct blot.

Still, he couldn't tell that to Carla.

There was a brief pause as he thought of another lie. "Oh, something about dad wanting me to pick out a photo for his wall. I don't know, love, I wasn't really listening. All I could think about was getting home to you."

"So cheesy."

"Don't pretend you don't love it," he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Inside he breathed a sigh of relief she hadn't rumbled him. Then again, he had always been an accomplished liar. He nodded over at the television set that looked like a relic from the dark ages. "Seeing as we're both in for the night, how about we watch a nice movie?"

"Sure. As long as I get to pick."

He returned to the sofa with a bowl of microwaved popcorn and called over to Carla who had her head buried inside the cupboard beneath the TV. "So what are we watching? And please don't say The Notebook."

She laughed. "I think you're forgetting Roy doesn't have a subscription to Netflix. We're limited to whatever's in this cupboard which is mainly documentaries on steam engines."

"Okay. Hit me with some titles."

Ducking her head out of the cupboard, she selected the DVD from the top of the pile she had collected. Wiping away the dust, she frowned as she read out the title. "Moby Dick... That's about a whale, right?"

"Hmm. What else?"

She picked up another. "Forest Gump."

"Momma says life is like a bawx of chawcolates."

She rolled her eyes at his goofy impression before picking out another. "Ooh, here's a classic. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest."

Somehow a film about mental institutions, straitjackets and lobotomies didn't seem like light-hearted entertainment given what they had been through.

"Um, maybe not…"

"You're probably right," she said, casting it to the back of the pile. They had gotten through the entire collection and Carla did one more sweep of the cupboard. "Ooh, there's one more in here…"

Peter crossed his fingers. "Please be a good one."

She brushed away the dust and sighed. "It's a documentary…"

"Oh no."

"On The Intelligent Life Of Crows." She held it up to him in case he didn't believe her.

He threw his handful of popcorn back into the bowl. "Terrific! Cheers, Roy. Forest Gump it is then."

Carla's phone buzzed to life on the coffee table and Michelle's name appeared on the screen. Peter tossed it over to her and she mouthed 'two minutes' before answering it.

"Hiya Chelle, what's up? Whoa, whoa slow down… You've done what?! Why?... Okay, just calm down. You stay there and I'll be right over."

Hanging up, she got to her feet.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm about to be ditched?"

"That was Chelle. Something's happened and now she's threatening to call off the wedding. I better go round there and see what's kicked off. God, the last thing this family needs is more drama…"

She bent down and kissed him. "I'm sorry darlin'. We'll do this another time when there's more of a selection."

Then, stealing a piece of popcorn from the bowl and popping it into her mouth, she headed over to the front door and grabbed her coat off the hanger. She zipped up the thick parker and Peter smirked at her pink pyjama bottoms poking out from beneath it. "Carla Connor leaving the house in her pyjamas. What will people say?"

She gave a playful roll of her eyes. "It's dark. No one will see me."

She slipped on her Ugg boots, completing the look, then blew him a kiss before hurrying out the door. "I'll be back soon! Don't wait up!"

He waited until he heard her footsteps descend the stairs before making a call of his own. "Nick, it's me. What we talked about earlier… I'm in."

* * *

**Author's note: So Peter and Nick working together? That should be interesting... And what's kicked off with Michelle and Robert? Tune in next time to find out. **

**If you liked this, please leave a review. As always, thanks for reading. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Special shout out to XxCarterfanXx for reviewing the last chapter! **

**I'm aware there hasn't been a lot of Carla/Peter interaction so far in the story, but that will soon change, so just hang in there. Also, sorry for any grammatical mistakes. Hopefully there aren't too many, but feel free to point any out. **

**Without further ado, here's there next instalment…**

* * *

Chapter 4 - The Rover Returns

Carla tore open the curtains and daylight poured into the flat, stirring Michelle who had passed out drunk on the couch. She sat up slowly and rubbed the dark circles under her eyes. Carla couldn't tell whether they were from lack of sleep or simply mascara she had forgotten to wash off, though she decided it was probably a combination of the two.

Michelle groaned appreciatively at the black coffee Carla set down in her lap. "What time is it?" Her voice was groggy from sleep, and alcohol.

Carla sat beside her and zipped up her heels. "It's late."

"How late?"

"Midday late."

Michelle's eyes bulged from their sockets and she bolted upright, nearly spilling her coffee over herself. "Oh God, I was meant to be at the bistro hours ago!"

"Relax," Carla said, easing her back down. "I called Ryan and told him you're not going to be in."

Michelle closed her eyes. "Thank you…" Her brow furrowed as she fought off a wave of nausea. Once it passed, her eyes blinked open and she sighed miserably. "Ugh, I feel like death."

"You look like death."

"Cheers." Her eyes went to the empty wine bottles on the coffee table. "Look at all this mess."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I've woken up to a damn sight worse than this, believe me."

Michelle blew on the coffee before taking a sip and grimacing at its bitter taste. "I feel like the world's biggest mug, Carla. Here I am thinking I'm about to marry the bloke of my dreams and then he goes and drops this bombshell on me. I mean, Vicky? Of all people!"

Carla remembered Vicky from her brief time at the factory. A gobby mare, always rubbed people up the wrong way, but hardworking.

"She's not so bad. A little rough around the edges maybe…"

Carla stopped talking at Michelle's death stare.

"Whose side are you on here?!"

"Yours, always," Carla said without a flicker of doubt. "Remind me, how did you leave things with Robert?"

Michelle groaned at the thought of having to go through it all again. "Once I found the scan photo in the drawer, he had to come clean. He told me about Vicky, how they'd slept together after I finished with him. He said it was a one-time thing and that he loves me. The pregnancy was a complete surprise. Vicky only told him about it after we got back together. And the only reason he didn't tell me was because he was afraid of losing me."

"Do you believe him?"

Michelle shrugged. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I've been here before, haven't I? It's Steve and Leanne all over again. Why can't men keep it in their pants eh?"

Carla chuckled wryly. "Ain't that the billion-dollar question."

"You know what hurts the most? That throughout all that stuff with Leanne and Steve, and losing Ruari, Robert was there for me. He saw what it did to me… and now he's gone and done the exact same thing. It's like he never cared about me at all."

"I don't know what to say, Chelle. You can't want to marry him after this, surely?"

"I still love him though," Michelle admitted, hating herself for how pathetic she sounded. "But you're right. There's no moving past this. How am I meant to forgive him?"

"It's never easy, believe me." Carla sighed and decided to open up about a painful piece of history she wished she could forget. "I swore blind I'd never go near Peter again after what he did to me with Tina. When I think about them together it makes me sick, I mean, physically sick. And I still hate him for what he did… But I love him more. I could've gone on pretending that I didn't but I'd only be hurting myself, so in the end, I made a choice; to draw a line under the past, set all the bad stuff aside, and give him a second chance. And you know what? So far it's proved to be the best decision I've ever made. These past few months he's really stepped up to the plate and I can honestly say hand on heart that I wouldn't be here without him."

"So what are you saying? That I should sweep all this baby stuff under the rug and forgive him?"

"All I'm saying is if you walk away now, will it just be Robert you're punishing.. or yourself too?"

Michelle's head dropped against Carla's shoulder. "This is all such a mess."

Carla knelt before her and took her by the hands. "Okay. It's time for some tough love, girlfriend. There's no denying Robert's messed up, but you did break up with him, Chelle, so he had every right to sleep with half of Manchester if he wanted to. And okay, he's got some woman pregnant, it's not ideal, but maybe, just maybe, you could try to see this whole situation as a blessing in disguise."

"A blessing in disguise?!"

"Hear me out, okay? The whole reason you broke up in the first place was because he wanted kids and you didn't, right? Well, now that obstacle's gone. So the way I see it, if he still loves you and you love him, then there's every chance you could be very happy together."

"Yeah, but what about all the months of lying, Carla?"

"He's a coward, yes, but he only lied because he was scared that if he came clean about the pregnancy, you'd leave him."

Michelle stared at her friend. "You know what, it's a good thing you left the rag trade because I think you've got a career ahead of you in psychology."

"Haha, very funny." Carla kissed Michelle's cheek as she went to stand. "Okay, I'm heading over to the bistro to cover your shift whilst you've got some serious thinking to do. Oh, and you might want to have a little freshen up because if Robert sees you looking like this you won't have to worry about marrying him or not because he'll have run for the hills."

Michelle launched a cushion at her. "Oi cheeky! Go on, scram!"

Carla stopped by the mirror and stared at her reflection. She had borrowed one of Michelle's dresses and wasn't sure about the fit. "Do I look alright? It's been a while since I've worn anything but hoodies and trainers. Plus, it's my first day on the job and I want to make a good impression."

Michelle's eyes rolled up at the ceiling. "You look gorgeous as usual. Now go on, get out of here."

Carla blew her a kiss before heading out the door. "Ciao for now!"

* * *

They pulled up outside the derelict building block on the edge of town. Nothing about the place looked inviting, not that they were expecting a loan shark's dwellings to be Buckingham Palace.

"Are you sure this is it? Maybe the Satnav got it wrong."

"No, this is it," Nick said, unbuckling his belt. "Come on, let's go."

He went to open the door when Peter caught his arm. "Just remember, when we get in there, let me do the talking."

The inside of the building was no better than the outside. The lights flickered on overhead, revealing a dingy office swarmed with boxes of paperwork.

"This place looks better in the dark," Peter muttered over Nick's shoulder.

They ventured inside and Peter walked up to the desk and held up a framed photograph of a man and his daughter on a beach. "I'm guessing this is Rick."

"Nice to know he's a family man." Nick motioned to the stacks of paperwork. "Seeing as nobody's around, we might as well start looking through these boxes. There's got to be something on Gary in here somewhere."

As they began sifting through the mountain of paperwork, they were alerted to footsteps climbing the stairs. They began shoving handfuls of paper back in the boxes, trying to make it appear untouched, when a large, intimidating woman appeared in the doorway.

Her suspicious gaze shifted between them. "Who the hell are you?"

The pair exchanged nervous glances. Then, taking charge, Peter stepped forward with a confident swagger, "We're here to see Rick. Is he around?"

"Who's asking? Are you coppers?"

Peter laughed. "Do we look like coppers to you?"

The woman tipped her head towards Nick. "We don't get many people dressed like that in here."

Peter gave a snide sideways glance at Nick's suit and tie. "Oh, don't worry, he always dresses like that. It makes him feel important." Then held out his hand and flahsed the woman his most disarming smile. "I'm Peter and this is my friend Nick. Well, maybe friend is a bit strong…"

After a slight hesitation, the woman accepted his handshake. "Sharon." She seemed to lower her guard a little. Her muscular arms folded over her chest. "So what's all this about, are you here for a loan?"

"We're here about Gary Windass." Peter watched as a flicker of recognition passed her face. "I take it you know him?"

She shrugged defensively. "So what if I do?"

Nick started to grow impatient. "Look, we're not the police, we're not interested in whatever dodgy schemes you've got going on here. All we want to know is whether Gary had something to do with my factory's roof falling down."

"Oh, the factory on Coronation Street? Yeah, I read about that in the paper. A woman died, right? Terrible stuff. You think Gary did that?"

"We're not sure," Peter admitted. "That's why we want to speak to your boss. We're hoping he can shed some light."

"Rick's not around."

"Where is he?" Nick asked.

"I don't know."

Nick scoffed, tired of her games. "You really expect us to believe that?"

"Believe what you like, it's the truth. Rick took off one day and I haven't heard from him since. I've called him hundreds of times but it goes straight to voicemail."

"What do you think happened to him?" Peter quizzed.

"Isn't it obvious? He's dead." At their horrified faces, she laughed, "Don't look so surprised! In this line of business, it's not unusual for people to end up facedown in the canal."

Nick found the candid manner in which she spoke deeply unsettling. "Who would want him dead?"

"A lot of people. Loan sharks aren't popular people, Rick had a lot of enemies. But it doesn't take a detective to work this one out. The day Rick disappeared, he was going to have it out with Gary. In our profession, when we say we're going to have it out with someone, it means we're going to put a bullet in their brain. Only, Rick never came back. And the very next day, Gary walks in here bold as brass and tells me Rick's fled the country and put him in charge of the business."

"What are you saying…" Peter needed her to spell it out in order to believe it. "…that Gary killed Rick?"

"Pretty sure of it, yeah."

The men exchanged looks and wondered what kind of shit show they had gotten themselves into.

"Wait a minute," Nick said, picking up on something that had previously gone over his head. "Did you say Gary's in charge? He runs this place?"

"That's right."

Another uneasy looked passed between them. "That explains what I saw him doing the other day," Nick muttered darkly, recalling his encounter with the elderly woman in the bungalow.

Sharon walked over to the desk and reclined on the leather chair. She put her feet up on the desk, as if she owned the place, and eyed the pair the two men before her. "You know, you're probably right to be worried about Gary. I'll bet you any money he messed with that roof. And I'll tell you something else too. He won't be happy when he finds out you've been snooping around in his office asking questions…"

Peter knew exactly what she was getting out and begrudgingly pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

She grinned. "Fifty quid and we'll call it quits."

* * *

The minute Carla showed up for her shift at the bistro, she was ambushed by Robert who bombarded her with questions about Michelle. "I know you stayed at the flat last night, so come on, what's she said about me? Actually, no, don't answer that. I just want to know she's alright. Can you at least tell me that? Please, Carla, I'm desperate here."

Carla gave a resigned sigh. "She's fine. A little hungover, but fine."

"I should go round there and check she's alright."

"No, you going round there is just going to make things worse. She needs some space to think things through."

But Robert wasn't listening. He whipped off his chef's uniform and ran out from behind the bar. "Hey, come back!" Carla shouted after him, but he was already out the door.

Daniel returned to the bar carrying a stack of dirty plates. "Where's he gone? He can't just leave us in the lurch, we've got orders that need doing! How are we supposed to manage without a chef?!"

"Did somebody say chef?"

At the smooth Irish accent, Carla spun around. Standing before her with a bag slung over his shoulder, looking ruggedly handsome as ever, was Ciaran. He set the heavy bag down and flashed her his most charming smile. "Carla Connor! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? Come here, gorgeous!"

Carla ran out from behind the bar and crashed into his open arms. His strong arms lifted her off her feet into a rib crushing bear hug.

From the bar, Daniel watched the pair with confusion. "Am I missing something here?"

Ciaran set her down and Carla beckoned Daniel over with a smile. "Daniel, this is Ciaran, one of Peter's mates from the navy. Ciaran, this is Daniel, Peter's brother."

Ciaran smiled and shook his hand. "Ah, so you're the famous Daniel Osbourne! Pete's told me a lot about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Carla didn't know what question to ask first. She was still reeling from the fact he was stood before her. "So when did you get back in town? Last I heard you were off cruising the Caribbean."

"There's plenty of time for chitchat later," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "First, I believe there are some orders that need cooking. Here, pass me that uniform."

Carla raised a sceptical brow. "You're volunteering?"

"Well, why not? You need a chef; I'm a brilliant one; it's a no brainer."

Before she had time to argue, Daniel had already chucked him over the uniform and Ciaran slipped it on with ease. Carla dreaded the look on Robert's face when he walked in and saw him wearing it.

Ciaran rubbed his hands together excitedly. "God, it's good to be back!"

He disappeared into the kitchen and Carla was left watching the kitchen door swing in his wake.

"He doesn't hang about," Daniel remarked. His smile faltered when he noticed the worried look on Carla's face. "What's wrong?"

"One thing I probably should've mentioned during introductions…" she began slowly. "Ciaran is Michelle's ex."

Daniel gulped. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

The staff were rushed off their feet as they struggled to keep up with the speed at which Ciaran was firing out orders. Daniel returned to the bar after waving off some customers and found Carla checking her phone. "I don't think I've ever had so many tips in my life," he exclaimed. "Everyone's raving about the food! That mate of yours must be one hell of a chef." Carla wasn't listening, too preoccupied with her phone, and he knew she was checking for messages from Michelle. "Any word?"

Carla slipped her phone back into her apron with a sigh. "Not a dicky bird. I just hope Robert's not giving her any grief."

Little did she know, she was about to find out. The main doors opened and Michelle walked in, closely followed by Robert. Perfectly made-up and not a hair out of place, Michelle looked a far cry from the drunken state Carla had left her in that morning, and Robert had calmed considerably from his agitated state. They came over to the bar and Carla eyed them curiously, trying to assess what the situation was between them. "Chelle, what's going on? Did you read my messages?"

"Sorry, I've not had a chance. We've been busy talking."

Daniel came up behind Carla. "So are you two back together now or what?"

"We talked and…" Michelle looked up at Robert and took his hand in hers, giving it a small squeeze. "…the wedding's back on!"

"Well, thank God for that!" Daniel exclaimed, dramatically wiping his brow.

However, Carla didn't share his elation. She was terrified that any minute Ciaran would walk out the door. She needed to tell Michelle that he was back, but she couldn't say it in front of Robert. She plastered on a fake smile so as not to arouse his suspicions. "Chelle, can I have a quick word in the office? There's something I need to tell—"

The kitchen door flew open and Carla cringed, not needing to look behind her to know who had stepped out.

"Order for table number seven is ready to…"

Ciaran's words trailed off into nothing as his eyes found her, the woman he'd loved and lost, standing before him, looking more beautiful than ever before, if that were even possible.

Michelle stared back at him like a deer caught in headlights. The man who had driven off in the back of a taxi, never to be seen again, was here, in her bistro.

Their long, lingering looks hadn't gone unnoticed by Robert who became deeply unsettled. He slipped a protective arm around Michelle's waist as if claiming his territory, then scowled at the imposter wearing his chef's uniform. "Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my kitchen?"

Ciaran handed the plates over to Daniel. Then he rolled up his sleeves and extended his hand over the bar. "Ciaran McCarthy," he said with a smile that bore no hostility. "I worked here a long time ago. I saw the place was in a spot of bother so I offered a helping hand."

Robert sneered at Ciaran's outstretched hand, and didn't shake it. Instead he turned to Michelle and jealousy grew in the pit of his stomach at the way she seemed unable to take her eyes off the handsome stranger.

He coughed loudly, getting her attention. "Michelle, do you know this guy?"

Michelle's eyes were wide and unblinking. Her mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, but no words came out.

"We're old friends," Ciaran said, coming to her rescue. "I'm back in the area for a few days so I thought I'd swing by and say hello. But now the runaway Chef's returned, I'll be on my way."

Ciaran hung up the uniform and stepped out from behind the bar. His soft blue eyes lingered on Michelle in a way that made her heart race, and he politely tipped his head. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you."

Robert watched him leave then stormed behind the bar, snatched his uniform off the hanger, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alone at the bar, a stunned Michelle glared at Carla, who, under the heat of her stare, shrugged sheepishly. "I did try to warn you…"

* * *

They had parked around the corner from Victoria Street to lower the risk of being spotted. Peter leant against the car door and took a slow drag of his cigarette to calm his nerves. "So it's confirmed. Not only is Gary the lord of a criminal empire, he's also a murderer."

"We don't know for sure that Gary killed Rick. Sharon might've only said that to scare us."

"Well, it worked!" Peter threw his cigarette to the ground and imagined it was Gary's face as he stamped on it.

Nick startled as his phone started ringing. He fished it out of his pocket and sighed at the screen. He swiped his finger across it, rejecting the call. "It's Leanne… I better go, she'll be wondering where I am."

"Where does she think you've been all day?"

"I told her I was meeting a client in Nottingham. What did you tell Carla?"

"She thinks I'm on a cabbie shift." As he said it, Peter dipped his head, ashamed at himself for the lie.

Nick placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I don't like lying to them any more than you do, but we don't have a choice. If today's little adventure proved anything, it's that Gary's more dangerous than either of us realised."

Nick became distracted by something behind Peter and nodded over his shoulder. "Looks like you've got company. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Nick hurried away and Peter was left wondering who was walking up behind him. What if it was Carla? What if she had seen him with Nick? How would he explain that away?

He turned slowly, praying it wasn't her.

"No way…" His dread turned into delight and a wide smile lit up his face. "Ciaran?!"

They ran to each other and met in a brotherly embrace. "My God," Ciaran said, pulling back to get a better look at him. "That's a beard and a half isn't it, Pete? Almost didn't recognise you there for a minute!"

Peter chuckled heartily. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were off sailing the seven seas!"

"My next cruise doesn't leave for a few days so I thought I'd swing by and say hello. So what do you say we catch up over a pint in the Rovers? And when I say pint, I mean a pint of bitter for me and a pint orange juice for you."

They sat in a booth and Ciaran couldn't stop staring at Jenny and Johnny. "I'll tell you what, I hardly recognise the place anymore. There are so many new faces I can barely keep up."

"Well, things change." Peter lowered his orange juice and eyed his friend curiously. "So are you going to tell me the real reason you're back in town or what?"

"I already told you. I found myself at a loose end and thought I'd come and see how my best mate was doing."

Peter shook his head. "I know you, remember. You've always got a hidden agenda. Nine times out of ten a woman's involved."

Ciaran stared down at his pint. Then he lifted his eyes up at Peter and beckoned him closer, "Alright, I'll come clean. You're gonna laugh when I tell you this, but I came back because I was hoping I could convince Michelle to come away with me on my next cruise."

He held up his hand before Peter had a chance to speak. "Don't worry, before you say it, I already know she's got a new fella. I should've known," he sighed, shaking his head with disappointment. "Women like Michelle don't stay single for long."

"So you've seen her then?"

Ciaran nodded. "It wasn't the most romantic of reunions, let's put it that way. I was helping out at the bistro when she walks in with her new man. I can't remember his name..."

"Robert."

Ciaran snapped his fingers. "That's it, Robert." He uttered his name in a harsh, biting tone. "I don't know what Michelle sees in him, to be honest. Bit of a hothead if you ask me."

"Says you!" They both laughed a little at that. "I don't know Robert all that well," Peter went on, "but from what I do know, he's a decent enough bloke. Well, he has to be if he's marrying Michelle."

Ciaran's jaw practically hit the table and Peter realised he'd stuck his foot in it.

"They're getting married?"

Peter could practically hear Ciaran's heart break in two.

"I'm sorry mate… I thought you knew. The wedding's this weekend if it's still going ahead."

"Why would it not go ahead?"

"Oh, it's probably something and nothing," Peter said with a dismissive shake of his head. "They had an almighty row last night and Michelle threatened to call off the wedding. But by the sounds of it, they've patched things up."

"What were they rowing about?"

"Oh, no idea. Though I'm sure Carla will fill me in on all the details."

"Carla?" A frown appeared on Ciaran's face as he said her name. He studied Peter carefully. "Wait… are you two back together? What happened to starting a family with Toyah?"

It hit Peter just how long it had been since they'd last spoken.

"A lot's changed since then," he said cryptically, not wanting to get into it.

"Don't I know it," Ciaran laughed. "So come on, what happened with you and Toyah?"

"Let's just say the surrogacy thing ended badly. And that's putting it mildly."

Ciaran sensed it was a sore subject and chose to back away. "Say no more. Well, I'm sorry to hear that, mate. I know how excited you were about extending the family. Still, Carla's a cracking bird, not to mention easy on the eye..."

"Watch it, McCarthy. That's my girlfriend you're talking about."

Ciaran grinned at him, shaking his head, a strange admiration in his eyes, "I can't believe she took you back after some of the rotten tricks you pulled! You're one lucky beggar, Peter Barlow."

"Don't I know it."

"I'll tell you something for nothing, Peter; those Connor women are one of a kind. Hold onto them. Don't mess it up like I did because you'll regret it."

Peter nodded. He knew how lucky he was to be given this second chance and he was determined not to mess it up. He had let Carla slip through his fingers once before. He'd be damned if he let it happen again.

As the night grew later, the conversation turned to Ciaran's adventures at sea and Peter found himself feeling a little envious. He would have been sailing the channel by now had his boat not burnt to a crisp. Still, sailing around the world didn't compare to being here with Carla.

Ciaran set down his empty pint glass and his expression sobered. "I've been meaning to ask, what happened over the road? The factory looks like a bomb's hit it."

"Oh, that..." Peter had been dreading this line of questioning. "The roof collapsed."

"Jesus Christ! Was anyone hurt?"

"Thankfully there weren't too many casualties. But a girl died."

Ciaran's stomach tensed. "Who was she, the girl? Anyone I know?"

"Rana Habeeb. She'd only lived here a couple of years so you wouldn't have met. She was marrying Carla's sister. It was their wedding day when it happened."

"Christ! That's awful…"

Peter nodded. "The whole thing pushed Carla to a mental breakdown. She completely lost touch with reality. You wouldn't have recognised her, mate. Hell, I barely recognised her. It was frightening, it really was. I thought I'd lost her..."

He went quiet and he was taken back to that moment on the fire escape; the feel of her soft kiss on his cheek, that look of goodbye she had given him right before stepping onto the railing…

He shivered, burying the memory deep into his subconscious.

"But we're through the worst of it now," he said assertively, more to assure himself than to Ciaran.

Ciaran sat, speechless. He had seen Carla earlier that day and she had seemed fine, like her usual, fiery self. He couldn't fathom the woman he had spent all afternoon joking with was the same woman that Peter was talking about.

His eyes rounded in sympathy at the tortured look on Peter's face. "I had no idea things were so bad. All this stuff with Carla must've hit Michelle pretty hard too."

Peter nodded. "Well, you know what those two are like. They're practically sisters."

"So was it an accident?" Ciaran asked. "I mean, roof's don't just fall down."

"According to the police, it was sabotage."

"Sabotage? You're pulling my leg, right? Who would do a thing like that?"

"That's what the police are still trying to work out," Peter explained. "But so far all they've done is point the finger at the wrong people. Carla's their prime suspect but I'm telling you mate, she's innocent."

"I know that, 100%. But if it wasn't her, who was it?"

"I've got a few ideas…"

The dark manner in which Peter spoke gave Ciaran a bad feeling in his stomach. "That sounds ominous. Care to elaborate?"

"Let's just say I've been playing detective and so far I've dug up more dirt on this investigation than the coppers have."

"I don't like the sound of this, Pete. Taking the law into your own hands is a very dangerous game. If you want my advice, leave it to the professionals."

"I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

* * *

The cold night air hit Ciaran like a slap in the face as he stepped out of the pub. He zipped up his jacket, cursing at the faulty zipper, then his eyes surveyed the quiet street where the bistro's illuminated sign shone like a beacon ahead. He spotted Michelle coming out of the double doors and he chased after her. "Michelle, wait up!"

He stopped in front of her on the pavement and she gave a slow, deliberate roll of her eyes. "What do you want, Ciaran?"

Her reception was frostier than the weather and it took Ciaran by surprise. He dug his hands in his pockets, suddenly nervous. "I just wanted to apologise for earlier. I didn't mean to make things awkward."

She sighed and softened a little. "You didn't. Thanks for stepping in and helping out."

"Ah, don't mention it."

An awkwardness hung between them and it struck Ciaran just how much time had passed. They were different people now. It was stupid of him to think he could come back and find everything the same as when he had left it.

Michelle shivered at the cold and wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. "So are you back for good or just passing through?"

"Just passing through. My next cruise doesn't leave for a few days so I thought I'd come back, visit a few friends, you know."

"I thought you'd waved goodbye to this place for good. I thought we were all too boring for you around here."

"You, boring? No chance."

That won a small smile from her, and it felt like a small victory.

"So how's life at sea?" she asked.

"It's great. Nothing beats being out on the open water, watching the sunset over the horizon. It's beautiful, it really is…" He sighed, a wave of melancholy washing over him. "It's just not the same when you haven't got anyone to share it with, you know?"

"You haven't met anyone?" Her brow raised incredulously and she gave him a scrutinising look. "I find that hard to believe."

"Sure, I've had a few flings, but nothing serious…Nothing like what we had."

His words made her blush and it pleased him to know he still had that effect on her.

She scoffed and gave a slight shake of her head. "Now I know you're having me on."

"It's true," he said, eyes never leaving hers. "You were the only woman for me, the only woman I'd have happily spent my life with..." He sighed sadly and looked down at his feet. "But I well and truly messed that up, didn't I?"

The two of them stood together like this reminded Michelle of the last time they were stood on this street. She had kissed him goodbye and watched with tears rolling down her face as his black cab drove off into the night.

Her heart broke a little inside just thinking about it.

She pulled herself together. What was she doing dwelling on the past? She was with Robert now. They had patched things up and were getting married at the weekend. Robert was her future, not Ciaran.

"It's in the past," she said. She cast her eyes down the street and Ciaran sensed she was anxious to leave. "Robert's cooking the dinner so I better be going. It was good seeing you again, Ciaran. Look after yourself, yeah?"

"You too."

He watched her walk away for what felt like the last time and his heart broke a little inside.

He kicked himself for driving off all those years ago. He had thought there were bigger things waiting for him, but as it turned out, everything he ever wanted had been right in front of him the whole time.

"Michelle!" She was halfway down the street when she stopped and turned around. "Congratulations, by the way. I hope Robert makes you happy."

He really meant it. She deserved love and happiness in her life, even if he couldn't be the one to give those things to her.

She stood under a streetlight and he caught her faint, lingering smile. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away.

* * *

** Author's note: So it seems Michelle and Robert have patched things up, but is he being entirely honest with her? And with Ciaran back in the mix, will the wedding go ahead? Ciaran warned Peter about the dangers of his amateur detective work, but will Peter heed his warning? **

**Next time: Weddings bells, blackmail, and someone winds up in hospital… **

**Thanks for reading! If you have a minute, please leave a comment. It helps me to gauge whether people are enjoying the story. Also, if you have any ideas/ speculation on where the story is going I'd love to hear it! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm so grateful for the feedback, it's so motivating, and it's great to know there are people out there enjoying the story. You're all brilliant. **

**Make sure you're sitting comfortably, this is the longest chapter I've written so far...**

* * *

Chapter five – Wedding Bells

Peter straightened his tie in front of the mirror. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn a suit, then again, he couldn't remember the last time there had been anything to celebrate. He caught the time on his wristwatch and hurried over to the bathroom door, knocking on it impatiently. "Love, are you nearly ready?"

"Two minutes!"

He gave a faint roll of his eyes. "You said that ten minutes ago. We're going to be later than the bride at this rate!"

It was an eternal mystery to him why women took so long to get ready. Leanne was terrible for it, Toyah wasn't as bad, but out of all his girlfriends, Carla was by far the worst. What was there to do? Whack on a bit of mascara, a touch of lipstick, then you're good to go. But what did he know, he was just a bloke after all.

Sighing, he wandered over to the kitchen where the digital camera sat on the worktop. He switched it on and began flicking through it to pass the time. He lingered on the shot of the jogger in the park.

"You should take that along with you today." He startled at the voice and spun around, clutching his chest. Roy stood before him, fiddling with the hem of his beige cardigan. "Apologies, I didn't mean to frighten you. I was merely saying that a camera of that quality could take some excellent shots of the wedding. That is, if Ken would allow you to do so."

"Ken?" He was momentarily confused before remembering the lie he had told Carla about the camera belonging to his dad. He smiled. "Yeah, good idea that, Roy. I'm sure my dad won't mind."

Roy looked him up and down then nodded his head approvingly. "You're looking very smart. The beard's gone, so I see."

Peter ran a hand down his freshly shaven cheek which still felt weird to the touch. He chuckled, "Carla said I was looking like captain Birdseye so I reckoned it was time it went really."

The bathroom door opened and Carla stepped out in a navy dress that sat just above the knee and silver stilettos with a heel so thin and pointy that Peter wondered how it was possible to walk in them. Her long hair hung in loose curls over her shoulders and swished from side to side as her eyes darted wildly about the flat. "Have you seen my clutch bag? I put it down somewhere and now I can't remember where I put it."

Lately all Carla's wardrobe consisted of was baggy jumpers, his mainly, because she didn't have any of her own. The dark clothing had reflected the dark place she was in, but now, seeing her vibrantly dressed, looking beautiful as ever, it was as if she was stepping out of those dark days and into the light.

Standing before him wasn't the frightened, erratic woman with the unwashed hair and tired, sunken eyes, but the Carla of old.

It felt like he was getting the final piece of her back.

He stared, completely mesmerised.

When she didn't get a reply, she looked up at him and colour flooded her cheeks. She shifted self-consciously and pulled at the hem of her dress. "It's alright, isn't it?"

Alright? It's more than alright…

Remembering he could speak, he said, "You look… beautiful."

Roy awkwardly raised his hand. "I second that."

She blushed, a little embarrassed, but secretly flattered. "Thank you. Both of you."

She walked over and slipped her arms around Peter's waist. "You don't scrub up too badly yourself. Especially now I can see your face again."

Her green eyes sparkled like they always did whenever she teased him and all he wanted to do was kiss her. He leaned in, their lips inches apart, when his phone's ringtone blasted out from his pocket, startling them both, and they sprung apart.

Peter growled as he fished it out of his pocket. His jaw clenched at the name flashing on the screen.

"Someone's popular today," Carla said. "That thing's been ringing nonstop all morning. Who's so desperate to get hold of you?"

Whatever Nick wanted could wait. Today wasn't about the investigation or Gary flamin' Windass. Today was about family.

"It's nobody," he said, switching it off. "Nobody at all."

* * *

They met up with Johnny, Jenny and Kate outside the bistro. Carla was surprised to see that Kate had come along. Today was bound to bring back painful memories of her disastrous wedding day. Still, Kate seemed determined to see it through for Michelle's sake and Carla was glad to see her getting out of the house.

Carla smiled over at her, hoping that just for today, they could put their grievances aside and enjoy the wedding. Kate seemed to want the same thing and returned her smile. No words were spoken but the look of understanding that passed between them was enough and it filled Carla with the hope that maybe the rift between them was closing.

Peter had brought along the camera and took pictures of them under the floral archway before they headed inside and took their seats amongst the intimate gathering of family and friends.

All the guests were seated. The groom was in position. All they needed now was the bride.

"She's cutting it fine, isn't she?" Jenny hissed down their row. "I've heard the thing about brides being fashionably late but this is taking the mick. Maybe she's got cold feet and done a runner with that Irish ex of hers, what do you reckon?"

"I reckon you should keep your silly thoughts to yourself," hissed Johnny. "She'll be here and everything will be just fine."

"Well, it can't go any worse than last time, can it?" Jenny said with a cackle, and Carla and Kate exchanged looks, like they always did every time Jenny opened her mouth.

More time passed and the guests were getting restless. Even Carla was beginning to wonder if Michelle had done a runner. "On a serious note," Peter whispered in her ear. "Why don't you give her a call, find out what's going on?"

"Good idea," she said, reaching into her clutch bag.

A symphony of violins started up and the main doors opened up, revealing Ali and Michelle stood arm in arm. The blushing bride looked like she had sprung from the pages of a fairy tale in her princess gown and diamond-studded tiara. As she passed down the aisle, she locked eyes with Carla who winked at her.

At the altar, Ryan and Ali stepped aside as Michelle and Robert joined hands before the Vicar who began the service with a prayer.

The exchange of vows, 'I dos' and rings had gone without the interruption from a gun-wielding psychopath. Already things were off to a better start. They were almost husband and wife. Almost.

"If any person here present knows of any lawful impediment why these two should not wed, please speak now, or forever hold your peace."

The doors flew open as if pushed by a powerful gust of wind and Vicky marched down the aisle to the chorus of shocked gasps, her baby bump visible for all to see. She paid no notice to the scathing looks from the guests. Her focus was solely on the bride and groom who had sprung apart upon her arrival.

"Robert, what's going on? I thought you said she was in Ireland."

Vicky laughed, loud and mockingly. "Ireland? Really? Is that the best you could do? As you can see, Michelle, I'm not in Ireland. He lied to you. He's good at that is Robert."

Johnny stood up. "If all you've come here to do is cause trouble then leave before I throw you out. You're not wanted here."

Vicky folded her arms, amused by the threat. "Sit down grandad. I'm not going anywhere until I've said my piece. Vicar, you wanted to know of any lawful impediment why these two shouldn't get wed? Well, I've got a whopper of a reason for you so you better hold onto you rosary…"

She pointed an accusing finger at Robert. From the terrified look on his face, she might as well have been pointing a loaded gun. "That lying, cheating, scumbag is already married…" She held up her left hand where a diamond sparkled under the light. "…to me."

More shocked gasps then a deafening silence. All eyes were on Robert.

A sickly sheen of sweat had formed on his brow. He squirmed like a cornered animal. "Michelle, I can explain…"

"This should be interesting." Vicky impatiently tapped her foot. "Go on then, we're waiting."

Michelle's eyes pleaded for Robert to tell her it was all one big misunderstanding, something they could look back and laugh about on their honeymoon. Her stomach twisted painfully as she watched his mouth stammer uselessly for an explanation he didn't have. "Robert," she began slowly, speaking calmly despite the storm raging inside. "Is it true? Are you married… to _her?"_

At his quivering silence, she screamed, "Robert! Answer me!"

He winced at her bellowing voice and lowered his head, too weak to look her in the eye. "Yes… it's true."

The whispered admission sent shockwaves through the silent room.

Michelle recoiled as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her immediate reaction was laughter; this had to be a joke, surely? Only she didn't see anybody laughing. If this was a joke then that made her the punchline. Once again, she had been made a public spectacle of humiliation by the man she loved.

Robert dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together as if praying. "Michelle, I am so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but how could I? The baby was a big enough bombshell, I couldn't tell you about the marriage as well! But you have to understand, she means nothing to me, it's you I love—"

_Slap! _

"Save it!" She yanked the diamond ring off her finger and threw it at him with all the force she could muster.

Robert looked up at her like a wounded animal. Tears of self-pity ran down his face as he clutched his reddened cheek. "Michelle, please…"

"I trusted you." With those words, the composure she had been fighting to keep, crumbled, and she bolted down the aisle in floods of tears and exited out the double doors. Carla left her seat and took off after her.

The silence came alive with whispering voices, all speculating on the explosive showdown they had just witnessed. Vicky sauntered over to the cowering groom and dropped her ring down at his feet where it landed alongside Michelle's. "My work here is done. I'll be seeing you in the divorce courts, husband."

* * *

The Rovers was on lockdown. Johnny brought a tray of drinks over to the booth where Jenny, Peter and Kate were huddled. "Thought we could all use a stiff drink after that fiasco," he said and handed them each a whiskey. "Sorry Peter, only orange juice for you."

Kate cast a nervous look at the bar. "Maybe I should go and check if she's alright?"

"Leave it, love. Carla's with her, she'll have it under control." Johnny knocked back his whiskey, wincing at the burn in his throat. "What was he playing at, the idiot! Marrying two women at the same time; who does that?"

Jenny nodded at Peter who had been keeping a low profile. "Maybe you can tell us? I seem to recall you've got form for this sort of thing."

"Please tell me she's joking?" At Johnny's question, Peter gave a stiff shake of his head and Johnny sighed despairingly. "Your track record just gets better and better…"

"I'm not proud of it," Peter said with a shrug of apology. "If it's any consolation, it was a long time ago."

They all sat up as fists started pummelling on the main doors. An angry voice called out, "Hey, open up! You've got customers that want serving out here!"

Jenny rolled her eyes. "We're closed! Family emergency! Can't you read the sign?"

"It's a Sunday afternoon for Christ's sake! Open up already!"

"I'm the landlady and I'll close whenever I like, now do one!" The banging ceased and Jenny grinned victoriously into her glass. "That told them. You've got to be assertive, that's the—" It started up again and she slammed her glass onto the table and whiskey spilt over the sides. "What did I just say?! We're closed! Piss off!"

"Jenny, it's Ryan. I'm with Ali. Can you let us in?"

"Oops... Coming lads!"

She ushered them inside before quickly bolting the door.

The boys came over to the booth and stood side by side in their matching grey suits. Johnny eyed them carefully. "Where have you been?"

Ryan nudged Ali in the ribs. "I've just had to stop this one from punching Robert's lights out."

Ali shrugged defensively at their shocked faces. "What? I was angry! He made mum look like a total fool back there!"

Jenny gave him a hearty pat on the back. "Good on you for sticking up for your mum."

"You won't be saying that if he gets done for assault," muttered Johnny. The boys slid into the booth and Johnny went and fetched them a whiskey from the bar. "So where's Robert now?"

Ali swallowed the whiskey like it was water. "Don't know. Don't care." With a humourless chuckle, he added, "Who knows? Maybe he's gone back to a third wife we know nothing about!"

Ryan's eyes searched the room. "Where's mum?"

Kate tipped her head towards the bar. "She's out the back with Carla."

"We should set up the sofa bed," said Jenny to her husband. "Michelle best stop with us tonight in case Robert's at the flat."

"Good idea."

Carla appeared from behind the bar and all eyes went to her as she slipped into the booth next to Peter. His arm settled around her and he asked what was on everyone's lips. "How's Michelle doing?"

Carla addressed the eager eyes at the table. "She's upset, angry... embarrassed mostly."

Ali nearly knocked the table over in his rush to stand up. "I'll go talk to her."

Carla caught his arm and gently urged him back down. "Don't. I think she just wants to be alone."

The family nursed their whiskeys in silence. They should have been raising a glass to the happy couple, and instead, here they were, drowning their sorrows.

Jenny raised her glass. "To another disastrous wedding! Cheers everybody!"

* * *

Nick had been calling Peter all day to no avail. It was only once Leanne returned from her walk with Oliver with news of the wedding, that he realised why. Peter was supporting the Connors in yet another crisis. That's one thing Nick didn't miss about being with Carla. The drama. It felt like they were constantly being propelled from one disaster to the next and there was barely time to catch his breath. He had enjoyed the rollercoaster while it lasted but nowadays chasing around after Oliver was enough excitement for him. He certainly didn't envy Peter.

Peter might have other priorities, but for Nick, nothing came before the investigation. The police were close to making an arrest. Any day now he feared the dreaded knock at the door where an officer read out his rights and carted him off in the back of a police car. He refused to sit idly and wait until the moment was upon him. He needed to do something. There was no time like the present...

He told Leanne he was going out for a run and headed over to Gary's flat. He banged impatiently on the door and the builder answered with an unsuspecting smile. "Oh, hiya Nick. What's up?"

"I know."

The ambiguity of his remark caught Gary off guard and he frowned. "Know what?"

"About the roof. That you brought it down. I know everything."

Panic flickered across Gary's face like a shadow. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, swallowing nervously. "I think you should leave."

He went to close the door but Nick wedged his foot in the doorway. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he said, pushing the door open. "And I've got the pictures to prove it."

Gary stood alert, his head twitching. "Pictures? What pictures?"

"Turns out there are quite a few aspiring photographers in Weatherfield," Nick began confidently, knowing he had all the control. "One of Beth's mates happened to snap a few shots of you up on the roof the morning it came down. They're a little blurred but there's no mistaking it's you. So, come on Gary, what have you got to say for yourself now?"

Gary had turned a sickly pale. His hand gripped the doorframe in an effort to steady himself. "I wasn't on the roof, okay? Now get your foot out of my doorway!"

Nick tutted, shaking his head from side to side in a slow, belittling manner. "When are the lies going to stop? I know all about your money problems, about Rick Neelan hassling you to pay up… Is that why you did it, Gary? Desperation? You thought if the roof caved in, Carla would give you the job of fixing it. An expensive job like that would make all your troubles go away, wouldn't it? I'm right, aren't I?"

The silence that followed was an admission of his guilt.

"These pictures," Gary hissed. "I want to see them. Where are they?"

"They're on a camera someplace safe."

Gary laughed maniacally. "That's because there aren't any pictures! You're bluffing!"

Nick's eyes never once wavered. "Do you really want to take that chance? Because tomorrow morning I'll be going down to the police station and showing them to Detective Beckett. I wonder what she'll make of them." He gave a deliberate pause. "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

Gary was clinging to his every word.

"You turn yourself in. Tell them what happened in your own words. We both know you did it, Gary. So how about you do the decent thing and hold your hands up? Either way, the jig's up. So either you go down to the police station tonight or I'll go first thing in the morning. The choice is yours, but the clock's ticking."

Nick removed his foot from the doorway and the door slammed in his face. Walking away, he let out a shaky breath. He had taken a huge risk pretending there were photos when there weren't any. But if the terrified look on Gary's face was anything to go by, he reckoned his gamble just might pay off.

* * *

Michelle sat in the empty beer garden and stared down at the dirt lining the bottom of her dress. It was ruined, much like everything else in her life. This morning she had been so excited at the prospect of becoming Mrs Preston. Little did she know there was already a Mrs Preston. A heavily pregnant one.

It was starting to become a regular pattern in her life; She'd be on the verge of happiness only to have it all cruelly snatched away at the last minute.

Maybe she was cursed. Or the street was. In the first few years of moving here, she had lost both her brothers in tragic circumstances. Last year, Aidan had killed himself. And the year before that, she'd lost her precious baby boy.

It wasn't fair. She was a good person. Why did bad things keep happening? Maybe it was time she cut her losses and ran?

The latch on the back gate lifted and Ciaran walked in and joined her on the bench. She turned away and wiped her eyes, embarrassed that he'd caught her at such a vulnerable moment.

"I heard what happened," he said quietly.

Of course, he'd heard. The whole street would have heard by now. She pictured the likes of Sally Webster and Mary gossiping in the street, laughing at the pathetic joke that was her life.

Her defences sprung up. "Had a good laugh did you?"

He made the face of a wounded animal. "Of course not! How could you even say that?"

His hand came and rested upon her shoulder and, for reasons she couldn't quite explain, she didn't shrug it off. "I should've known me and Robert were doomed from the start. If our first wedding wasn't a sign then I don't know what was. But did I listen? Oh no! And now look at me? I'm the laughingstock of the street!"

"Nobody's laughing, believe me."

Why had she taken Robert back? Why had she allowed herself to be humiliated in this way?

She slapped her forehead. "God, I'm such an idiot!"

"No, he's the idiot. He could've had the most amazing woman in the world and he went and threw it all away."

For a moment, Michelle wasn't sure if he was talking about Robert or himself.

He looked up at the sky where dark clouds swirled overhead. "It's going to rain. We should head inside."

"Not yet. I want to stay out here a bit longer. I know it's only my family in there but I'm not ready to face anyone yet, you know?"

He slipped off his jacket and placed it over her bare shoulders. "You're going to have to face people sometime though."

She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'll run away instead."

He laughed. "Run away? Don't be daft."

"I'm not being daft. Right now, I'd happily do it."

There was silence as Ciaran built up the courage to say what he had been wanting to say since his return. "Michelle, the other day when you asked me why I came back, I wasn't entirely honest with you…" He swallowed nervously. He never lost his cool around women, only Michelle. "I came back because I was going to try and convince you to come away with me."

Just when she thought the surprises were over for the day, the rug was once again pulled from beneath her. She laughed, "Come away with you? On a cruise? Are you having a laugh?"

He pulled out his phone and showed an email receipt for two tickets; one in his name and one in hers.

"Is that serious enough for you?"

Her eyes shifted from him to the ticket, then back to the ticket. "Ciaran, I don't know what to say…"

"Then don't say anything. Just promise me you'll think about it. I leave tomorrow afternoon. If you still feel like running away, well… there's a ticket with your name on it."

* * *

Gary walked the streets in a daze. He had come outside for some fresh air but it was doing nothing to calm his nerves. His heart was beating so fast he was afraid he might be having a heart attack. He kept imagining the sounds of sirens in the distance, coming to take him away.

Nick had photos. Photos of him. On the roof.

He had no choice but to hand himself in.

Perhaps if he told the detectives about Rick, about his threats, they'd take pity on him? Maybe he could get them to understand why he did it.

But would Kate understand? Would Imran?

He turned the corner of the street and walked straight into Beth. The bag of chips went flying from her hands and splattered onto the pavement.

"Watch where you're walking! You owe me £2.50!"

Gary froze. If Beth's mate had taken the photos then surely she had seen them. Did she know what he was? What he'd done?

"You alright, Gary? You look like you're about to pass out. Let me guess, you've had one too many down the pub? Can't say I blame you after that wedding! I'd need a stiff drink an' all!"

Gary didn't understand. Why was she being so nice to him? Why hadn't she mentioned the photos?

"What, err, what wedding?"

"Michelle and Robert's! Haven't you heard? The whole street's talking about it. They had a fancy do at the bistro. Me and Kirky tried to get in but we got turned away at the door. Close family and friends only apparently. Who do the Connors think they are, parading around like piggin' royalty?! And to top it all off, Peter Barlow was designated photographer using my camera! The flamin' cheek!"

Gary's interest piqued at the mention of the camera. What if it was _the_ camera that contained the damning photos? And Peter Barlow had it…

"Anyway," Beth said, sticking out her hand. "That'll be £2.50 for the chips."

Gary's trembling fingers searched his pockets for loose change. He only had a fiver and she tucked it into her bra with a sly smile. "A pleasure doing business with you."

He waited until she was a safe distance away before making an urgent phone call. "Jan, it's me. Something's happened and I need a favour."

* * *

When they arrived back at the flat, Roy was in his pyjamas, making himself a brew. "You're home late. I take it the wedding celebrations went on for quite some time?"

Peter snorted. "Celebrations? More like commiserations."

At Roy's look of puzzlement, Carla exclaimed, "Crikey, Roy, have you been living under a rock all day? The wedding didn't happen."

"Why ever not?"

"Because, as Michelle discovered at the altar, Robert's already married. That's right," she continued as Roy brought a hand to his mouth, "it was quite the scandal. There's now another bigamist on the street, so this one's got some competition."

She playfully nudged Peter who nudged her back.

Roy mindfully stirred his tea. "And how is Michelle?"

"She's upset, but she's made of tough stuff, she'll survive. She might not realise it now, but she had a lucky escape."

Roy nodded and took the steaming mug into his hands. "Well, I'm sorry things didn't work out better. I'm off to bed now. I'll see you both in the morning."

At hearing the bedroom door click shut, Carla headed over to the sofa and gave an elated sigh as she kicked off her heels. Peter joined her and loosened his tie. He undid the top few buttons of his shirt that had been choking him all day. "What a day eh?"

She dropped her head against his shoulder. "You can say that again. I reckon my family's cursed when it comes to weddings. I mean, first there was our wedding, then mine and Nick's, Eva and Aidan's, Kate and Rana's, Michelle and Robert's, Michelle and Robert 2.0— disasters, the lot of them."

"That's not true. Jenny and Johnny, they're happy."

"Don't be fooled. Their marriage has had more than its share of troubles, believe me."

The small matter of Jenny running over Liz with a car sprung to mind but Carla decided that was a story for another night.

Peter sighed again. "So much for dancing the night away eh?" He nodded over to the television. "What are we going to do now? Stick on that documentary about crows?"

"I have a better idea…"

He turned and caught the look in her eyes. It was a look he had seen many times before and it still managed to drive him wild.

Suddenly the evening was about to get a lot more interesting…

The corners of his mouth twitched into a wicked smile. "And this idea," he began slowly, "what does it entail exactly?"

"Well…" Hitching up her dress, she climbed on top of him and straddled his waist. "It involves you and me in the bedroom…"

"I like the sound of this already," he grinned.

Soft kisses trailed down his neck and his eyes fluttered shut. Then, remembering something, his eyes snapped open and he sat up sharply. "Wait, what about Roy?"

The thought of the pensioner overhearing them made him uncomfortable, to say the least.

Carla's lips hovered teasingly above his, close enough to feel her hot breath on his skin. "Relax… a few sips of chamomile tea and he's out like a light. And if we're loud then he'll just have to play his train noises to drown us out."

They giggled quietly, their foreheads pressed together.

Her brow raised expectantly. "So what's it going to be, Barlow? A boring bird documentary or a bit of you and me time?"

"The latter please," he said, getting lost in her eyes. "But love, are you sure? I mean… it's not too soon for you?"

The last thing he wanted to do was rush her into something she wasn't ready for. He had waited five long years for this moment, he could wait a little longer.

She lowered her lips to his in a slow, sensuous kiss. It was filled with the same longing and desire as the kiss they had shared all those nights ago in the dark, empty factory.

"Does that answer your question?"

Desire coursed through him and his hand reached behind her head and brought her lips crashing down onto his. They kissed hungrily, desperately, as if making up for lost time. He wanted her now just as much as he had the night he abandoned the tram crash memorial and confessed his love for her. Time had only made his feelings stronger.

Her fingers made light work of unbuttoning his shirt before unzipping his fly. "Maybe we should take this into the bedroom?" he murmured against her lips and she responded with a low purr. Her legs wrapped around him as he picked her up and carried her off into the bedroom. As he kicked the door shut behind them, he got the feeling Roy would definitely be needing his train volumes tonight…

* * *

The sound of footsteps woke Carla from a deep sleep. She stirred and blinked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It flashed 1 am. A strange hour for Roy to be up and about, she thought. What if he was sleepwalking again? The last time he had done so he had set fire to a boat and nearly burnt Simon alive. She dreaded to think of what he might do a second time. She untangled herself from Peter's arms, being careful not to wake him, and slipped into her dressing gown before heading out to investigate.

Stepping out onto the landing, she switched on the light and froze. On the far side of the room a tall, hooded figure spun around and shoved a camera into his rucksack. They faced each other, and stared. Neither of them said a word.

Then, eyes trailing downwards, Carla screamed at the figure lying face down on the carpet. "Roy!"

The intruder panicked and bolted for the door. She attempted to block his path but he shoved her aside. She stumbled backwards into Peter's arms. The intruder whizzed past them and slipped out the door.

"Go after him!" she cried.

Peter took off down the stairs and Carla rushed over to Roy. Crouched beside him, she shook him fiercely. "Roy, darlin', can you hear me?" She waited for a response but he remained limp. "Roy, wake up!" She blanched at the blood pooling beneath his head. "No, no, no…" She shook him again, harder. "Roy, please, say something!"

She grabbed his wrist and was relieved to feel a steady throb under her finger. Wasting no time, she ran to the phone and dialled the emergency services. It felt like an eternity before an operator answered. "I need an ambulance and the police," she said, the phone shaking in her grip. "There's been a break-in in the flat above Roy's rolls café on Victoria street. My friend's been attacked. He's unconscious and there's blood. Please hurry!"

She hung up the phone and Peter staggered in through the doorway. He dropped his hands to his knees and pulled in shallow breaths. "What happened?" she asked. "Did you catch him?"

Too breathless to speak, he shook his head. Then, not missing a beat, he ran over to her and cupped her face in his hands as his eyes looked her up and down for sign of injury. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine. Peter, it's Roy…" She nodded to the sprawled-out body on the carpet and tears flooded her eyes. "Peter, he's not waking up. Why's he not waking up?"

She went to shake him again, but Peter grabbed her wrist. "Don't, love. You might make things worse."

* * *

When the ambulance arrived Carla accompanied Roy to the hospital whilst Peter stayed behind and waited for the police. A team of officers soon arrived on the scene and began photographing the flat. A detective questioned Peter in the kitchen.

"Mr Barlow to your knowledge does anything appear to be missing from the property?"

"Not that I can tell. Then again, I'm not the best person to ask. It's not my flat, you see. I just stay here with my girlfriend. The guy who was carted off in the back of an ambulance owns this place. Roy Cropper's his name."

The detective nodded. "Even so, would you mind taking another look around?"

Every surface was covered in useless trinkets. There were so many it was impossible to tell if any were missing. Peter even wondered if Roy would be able to tell.

He walked over to the oak cabinet on the far side of the room and ran his hand along the polished surface before taking a look inside.

"Are you looking for something, Mr Barlow?"

Peter hurried back over to the kitchen. "Yeah, a camera. I left it on top of that cabinet over there and now it's gone."

"A camera you say?" The detective made a note in his pocketbook. "Can you describe the item?"

Peter closed his eyes in an effort to visualise it. "It's black. A Nikon, I think. It belongs to a mate of mine. It's really important that you find it. It contains a photograph that's crucial to a current investigation."

"Which investigation?"

"The factory roof collapse across the road. There was a photo on the camera that gave a mate of mine an alibi."

The detective made a note in his pocketbook then flipped it shut. "Well, we'll do our best to retrieve the stolen item. But for future reference, don't leave valuable evidence lying around your home. Give it to the police right away and situations like these can be avoided."

Once the officers left the flat, Peter drove over to the hospital and navigated his way through the maze of corridors. He eventually came across Roy's room and stared in through the slatted blinds. Carla was perched vigilantly at his bedside, her hand holding his. He entered the room and her head shot up and relief poured over her tired features. She ran to him and pulled him into her arms. He buried his face in her hair, breathed in the familiar scent of her shampoo, and closed his eyes. If he was grateful for one thing, it was that she hadn't been hurt. He only wished the same could be said for poor Roy.

He stepped back and nodded to the hospital bed. "How is he?"

Carla dabbed her eyes with a balled-up tissue. "The doctors say it's concussion. They reckon he'll sleep through the rest of the night. He's going to be so shaken when he wakes up."

Her lip quivered and Peter pulled her towards him. "Shh. It's alright."

"How does something like this happen?"

"I don't know, love," he said, holding her still. "But I'm telling you now, whoever did this isn't going to get away with it. I'll make sure of that."

* * *

**Author's note: So by all accounts a pretty disastrous wedding day, wouldn't you say? **

**Next time: There's a fight in the street and someone's got a big decision to make. **

**Thanks for reading. Please leave a quick little review if you enjoyed, it'll make my day :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Thanks so much for all the kind reviews! Was so chuffed reading them all! x**

**A shorter chapter this time…**

* * *

Chapter 6 – Goodbyes

Peter arrived back on the street after spending the night at the hospital. Roy was awake but the doctors wanted to keep him another night for observation, so Peter had come to grab a few bits from the flat to take back with him. First though, he needed a cigarette.

He smoked it outside the café and surveyed the quiet street. It was still early in the morning and everybody was asleep in their beds. Well, almost everybody. Nick turned the corner of Preston Petals, briefcase in one hand, mobile in the other, no doubt on his way to the community centre. He was busy chatting on the phone but when he clocked Peter standing across the street, he quickly hung up.

Peter had hoped he wouldn't come over and rolled his eyes when did. "I've been calling you all morning. Why haven't you picked up? Sarah said she saw an ambulance outside the café last night. What happened? It's not Carla, is it? Please don't tell me she's relapsed…"

"No, it's nothing like that." Peter hadn't wanted to get into what had happened. He had been through it enough times in his own head and with the police. But the news would soon be all over the street and Nick wouldn't give up without an answer. "We were broken into last night. Roy's in hospital. Don't worry, he's fine. Carla's with him now. I've just come home to collect a few bits from the flat then I'm going straight back there."

Nick nodded slowly and there was genuine concern in his eyes.

Peter took a deep inhale of his cigarette, revelling as smoke filled his lungs, a sensation that always calmed him, then exhaled. "They stole the camera, Nick."

"What?"

"The camera. It's gone."

Nick blinked long and hard as if Peter had spoken in a foreign language. Then, sighing heavily, he slumped against the wall. "Bang goes my alibi…"

"The police say they'll do everything they can to find it."

He shook his head. "They won't find it. We both know that." After a moment's silence, he asked, "What else was stolen?"

"That's the odd thing. From what I can tell, nothing else was stolen, only the camera."

Nick looked at him then looked away. His eyes went to the sky and he shook his head, laughing bitterly to himself, as if he knew something Peter didn't. "Gary. That devious little…"

"Gary? What's he got to do with this?"

Nick hesitated. "There's something I haven't told you…Yesterday I paid Gary a visit. I told him there were pictures of him on the roof. That if he didn't come clean and confess, I'd show them to the police."

At first, Peter laughed, thinking it was a joke, but at Nick's deadpan expression, he soon realised it wasn't. "You did what?!"

"I was trying to trick him into confessing! It was a desperate throw of the dice, okay? The clock was ticking on the investigation, we had nothing on him, so I thought if I could put the frighteners on him, make him believe there were photos, that he'd panic and hand himself in. Never in a million years did I think he'd break into your flat! I mean, how he knew the camera was with you is beyond me!"

"Well, he found out somehow! And now the real photo, the one that gave you an alibi, is gone, and Roy's in hospital! Brilliant plan, Nick. Genius!"

Biting his tongue from saying a more cutting remark, he threw the cigarette butt to the ground and stormed off.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"To find Gary Windass!"

The storm that was brewing in the sky was nothing compared to the storm that was coming for Gary.

* * *

Gary walked down the street with a spring in his step. Last night he had been so sure it was over. But thanks to Jan who had come through on a favour, he could breathe easy. Not that he'd had anything to be worried about in the first place. As it turned out, all the camera contained were scenic shots around the Red Rec. No photos of him on the roof.

It had all been a ruse. A mind game to get him to confess.

He passed the pub, whistling a soft tune, when a force rammed into him from behind. His hands were thrust behind his back and his face was shoved painfully against the frosted glass window.

Hot breath tickled his ear. "Where is it?"

Gary tried to turn his head to see who was behind him, but it was impossible to move. "Where's what?!"

"The camera! The one you broke into Roy's flat and stole! Where is it?" The voice was gruff, aggressive, and unmistakably Peter's. "How does it feel to know you've put an old man in hospital eh, Gary?"

"Peter, I didn't, I swear!"

Gary cried out as he was shoved harder into the wall.

"Don't lie to me! I know everything! It was you who sabotaged that roof wasn't it, Gary? Come on, admit it!"

A jolt of pain shot up Gary's shoulder. "Ow! Get off me you psycho!"

"Not until you admit it. So why did you do eh? Was it to settle debts? To get Rick off your back? Or was it just for kicks?"

Strong arms thrust Gary around and seized him by the collar of his shirt. He was now facing Peter and saw first-hand the dangerous storm clouds brooding in his eyes. "Rana's dead in the ground, Imran and Kate's lives are in pieces, and Carla lost her mind! And it was all because of you! I should kill you…"

Peter raised his fist and lunged it forward.

Gary squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact. "Please, Peter, don't…"

The sharp gush of pain he was expecting didn't come. He cracked an eye open and saw Peter's fist hovering mere centimetres from his face. Slowly, Peter lowered his fist and seized him once again by the collar of his shirt, pulling the fabric tight in his hands. He spoke in a menacing whisper. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to go to the station and confess everything in your own words. Every last detail."

"And if I don't?"

Peter's eyes lit up at the challenge. He sneered. "If you don't, you'll have me to answer to… then you'll be begging them to lock you up."

"I'm not scared of you."

It was a lie. Gary was terrified. But he couldn't show Peter that.

Peter gave a sinister smile, one that made Gary wish he'd kept his big mouth shut. "Oh but you really, really should be…" His hands fastened around Gary's neck, and squeezed.

The life was being crushed from him and he clawed desperately at Peter's hands to get him to relinquish his hold, but it was too strong.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted Johnny rushing out of the pub. "Peter, what the hell are you doing? You're going to kill him!"

A crowd had formed on the street behind Peter but Gary's tunnelling vision blurred their faces.

"Let him go or I'll call the police!" a voice cried, and he recognised it as Chesney.

"Go on, call them!" Peter shouted over his shoulder, unafraid of their threats. "Call them and tell them there's a murderer walking our streets!"

'Murderer? Murderer?' echoed through the tiny crowd.

Darkness was creeping into the corners of Gary's vision. He could hear the slowing of his heart and the pumping of blood through his ears as the last of his breath was squeezed from him.

Then two blurred figures, tall, well-built, distinctly male, came up behind Peter and prised him away. He was forced to relinquish his vicelike grip and Gary fell to the ground, gasping for breath. He clutched his throat as he coughed and spluttered onto the pavement. Chesney ran and crouched beside him, patting his back. "Jesus Christ! Are you alright mate?"

Gary couldn't speak so nodded his head.

Chesney hauled an arm over his shoulder and lifted Gary to his feet. Gary stood, a little ungainly at first. "Come on," Chesney coaxed him. "Let's get you home."

Gary's vision slowly returned and the faces of the crowd became clear; Rita, Mary, Yasmeen and Imran. He briefly met Imran's gaze before quickly looking away.

A small distance from the crowd, Johnny was shaking Peter furiously by the shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?! You could've killed him!"

"Are you alright lad?" The question snapped Gary's attention back to the crowd where Rita was looking at him. A hand gripped her chunky pearl necklace and her eyes were filled with concern.

"He'll be alright, Rita," Chesney answered for him. "I'm going to take him back to mine. Come on, mate, let's go."

* * *

The cabbie lifted his eyes to the rear-view mirror. "Are you ready to go, son?"

"Just one more minute." Ciaran stared at the hotel steps where he had told Michelle to meet him. She was supposed to have been here ten minutes ago. She was always punctual. In all the time he'd known her she had never once been late to a shift at the Rovers or a business meeting. Which only meant one thing…

His breath steamed the window as he sighed heavily. "Alright, let's go."

"But I thought you were waiting for someone?"

"I was," he said, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice. "But she's not coming."

The taxi began down the road and he watched the unfamiliar terraced houses roll by, a heaviness in his heart which he couldn't shake at the thought of leaving Weatherfield once again without her.

That's when he noticed a woman walking along the pavement, hair blowing in the wind, struggling to pull a heavy suitcase in a pair of heels.

He sat up and cried "Stop the car!"

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Just do it!"

He didn't wait for the taxi to stop before jumping out and running down the road after her. "Michelle! Michelle!"

The woman ahead of him stopped and turned. "Ciaran?!"

His legs quickened their pace and before long they crashed into each other's arms. "I didn't think you were coming," he cried, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

She smiled nervously. "I didn't think I was either. But I'm here now."

He gestured to the suitcase behind her. "And you're sure about this? Because once we're on that boat, there's no turning back."

Michelle wasn't sure about anything anymore, other than she needed to get away. "I'm sick of that street, of the memories. It's time I got away and had an adventure… that is, if you'll still have me?"

His hands gently framed her face and he smiled sweetly. "Of course, I'll have you."

She grinned back at him like a giddy teenager. "Then yeah… let's do this!"

Pulling her into his arms, he spun her around. "Michelle Connor you've made me the happiest man alive!"

As they clambered into the back of the taxi, the cabbie eyed them from the rear-view mirror. "So she came then?"

Ciaran wrapped an arm around her and she nuzzled into him. "Indeed she did. Right, to the station please. And put your foot down. We've got a boat to catch!"

"Wait!"

Not the words Ciaran wanted to hear. He looked at her, afraid she had changed her mind. "Chelle, what's wrong?"

"There's somewhere we have to go first."

* * *

Family and friends had gathered outside the pub to wave the couple off on their travels.

"This is all very romantic," said Jenny. "Dumped at the altar one minute and whisked off on a luxury cruise with an Irish hunk the next! Not bad going, Miche."

Michelle laughed and pulled her into a hug. Despite her faults, Jenny had become a staple in the family and Michelle would miss her dearly. "Look after yourself," Jenny said as they broke apart. "Most importantly of all, enjoy yourself!"

Johnny, who was stood next to his wife, fixed Ciaran with a hard, intimidating stare. "Now, I don't know you all that well, but if you hurt my Michelle in any way, I'll hunt you down and I'll kill you, got it?"

Kate nudged her father. "Dad, there's no need to go all Liam Neeson on him."

Johnny gave a begrudging sigh before offering up his hand. "Just look after her, alright? That's what I meant."

"Rodger that," Ciaran said, shaking his hand. "You don't have to worry about a thing."

"Yeah, ease up, will you?" Jenny teased him. "They'll be fine! Sun, sea and cocktails. What's not to love?"

Michelle went over to her boys who were stood together. It filled her with such joy to see how close they had become. They might not be siblings by blood but they were in every other sense, just like she and Carla were.

She wrapped an arm around each of them and pulled them towards her, wishing she never had to let go. "I'm so proud of you both, you know that? Look after each other while I'm gone."

Ali muffled a reply into her shoulder. "Of course we will. Now please let go, you're suffocating us."

She showered them with kisses before releasing them. Ryan pulled away and wiped his cheek with disgust. "For god's sake mother! We're grown men."

She belly laughed. "Grown men? Big kids, more like! Now remember what I said, the flat's yours, but look after it, yeah? That means no house parties – I'm looking at you, Ry."

"Don't worry, we'll keep a close eye on them, Miche," Jenny winked at her.

Next in line to say goodbye was Maria and little Liam. Michelle knelt before her nephew and took his hand. "You be a good boy for your mum, won't you, Liam?"

He nodded shyly. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going on a boat. A big boat."

"Like a pirate?"

She laughed. "Yeah, a bit like a pirate."

"And are you coming back?" There was a sadness to his voice and, in that moment, with his eyes cast down, he looked the spitting image of her brother.

She lifted his chin. "I'll be back one day but right now I'm off to have an adventure like the pirates do in them stories you read."

"Michelle! Michelle!"

A teenage girl was running down the pavement, ponytail swishing behind her. Chasing breathlessly after her at a considerably slower pace was her father. The girl came crashing into Michelle who slowly brought her arms around her. "Amy, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see you! Duh!"

Steve eventually caught up and held up his hand whilst he caught his breath. Then he straightened up and offered a goofy smile that tugged on Michelle's heart. "You didn't think we'd let you leave without saying goodbye, did you?"

Although Steve had hurt her badly in the past, Michelle would always consider him and Amy family. She pulled him into the hug. "Come here, you big idiot!"

Amy then reached into her pocket and presented Michelle with a velvet red box. Inside was a silver necklace with a heart pendant. "I bought it with my own money," she stated proudly.

Michelle lifted it out of the box and admired it. "Amy it's beautiful… but I can't accept it."

"Why not? I want you to have it. It's something to remember me by."

"Remember you by?" Michelle repeated, her voice cracking. "Babe, how could I ever forget you?"

She hadn't been blessed with a daughter of her own but Amy was everything she could have possibly wanted. She held the girl close and laid a kiss on the top of her head.

Amy then joined Steve and Michelle headed back to Ciaran who was stood by the taxi. He anxiously eyed his watch. "We better be making tracks."

She nodded then turned to Johnny. "Tell Carla I said goodbye, won't you?"

"Of course I will. Now go! You've got a boat to catch!"

They bundled into the back of the taxi and Michelle brought her head to his chest as he slipped an arm around her. Despite all these years of being apart, the gesture didn't feel unfamiliar.

The cab took off down the street. As Michelle watched the familiar sights roll by her window, she felt a sense of freedom. After all these years, the street was finally letting her go.

She cast a final glance behind her and there, running in the middle of the road, arms waving like a lunatic, was Carla. Michelle pulled away from Ciaran's embrace and cried, "Stop the car!"

A groan came from the driver's seat. "Not again…"

Ciaran looked at her. "What is it now, Chelle?"

The taxi came to a standstill and Michelle leapt out.

The women stopped within metres of each other.

"Cutting it fine, aren't you?"

"You know me," Carla shrugged. "Always leave things to the last minute."

In the distance, Michelle spied Peter stepping out of a taxi and she knew they'd come back from the hospital. "How's Roy doing?"

Carla shrugged again. "He's awake now, that's something I suppose. They're going to keep him another night, just to be on the safe side."

"You could really do with having me around right now, couldn't you?"

"Ah, I'll be fine," Carla said, batting away her concerns with a casual wave of her hand. "You know me, tough as old boots."

"So you like to say."

Out of all the goodbyes, this would be the hardest of all. Carla had been the one constant in Michelle's life, the one person she could always rely on. People had come and gone, but they'd always had each other, right from when they were kids.

Michelle could feel the tears threatening to spill but she held them back. "It's going to be weird not seeing you every day. It feels like Devon all over again."

"We'll call each other every day," Carla said in an effort to remain upbeat. "There's skype, face time."

"It's still not the same though, is it?"

Carla kicked at the curb as she fought to keep her composure. "You'll have a brilliant time. This is just what you need. A fresh start."

"You really think so? You don't think I'm running away?"

"So what if you are? I've run away plenty of times. I say go for it, kid."

"Thanks, Car." Michelle closed the distance between them. "Listen, Robert called me last night. Vicky's moved to Ireland and he's going too so he can be there when the baby's born. He's selling his half of the bistro. And seeing as I don't know when I'll be back, I'm going to sell my half too… and I can't think of anyone better to run that place than you. So we're getting the paperwork drawn up and Robert's agreed to sell you his half for a reduced price. And my half, well, consider it a gift."

Carla's jaw hit the pavement. "A gift?! The bistro? Are you crazy? I can't accept that!"

"Why not? You're my best mate. You gifted your entire factory away. And what is it they say? One good turn deserves another."

"Chelle… it's not that I'm not flattered because I am, I really am, it's just... well, to put it bluntly, I'm a mess. I'm in no fit state to run that place."

"I know what the doctors said about not taking on too much stress. Nothing comes before your recovery, I know that. Which is why I've left the keys with Johnny who's offered to keep the place ticking over until you're ready to take the reins."

"Ah, I don't know about this…"

Michelle grabbed her by the shoulders. "Listen, I'm about to embark on an exciting new adventure. That bistro down the road, that's your new adventure. I've seen you behind that bar – you're a natural! This could be the making of you. So what do you say?"

Carla glanced fleetingly at Peter who nodded in encouragement, then she turned back to Michelle, an uncertain smile on her face. "I say… Oh, why the hell not!"

"Yes?" Michelle beamed with delight. "Yay, that's brilliant! You'll be amazing, I know you will! Keep me posted on the investigation. If there's any trouble, I'll be straight back here, got it? Oh, and keep an eye on my boys for me. Note how I said keep an eye on, not rip their clothes off."

Carla gave a mock salute. "Noted."

Ciaran called over from the taxi and tapped his watch. "Michelle…"

It was a bitter reminder that they were out of time. Carla's smile faded and she stuffed her hands in her pockets and looked to the ground. "I guess this is it then? Goodbye?"

The word was a stab to the heart. "Don't say that. You're making it sound like we'll never see each other again."

"Fine," Carla said with a roll of her eyes. "Goodbye for now then."

They looked at each other and it hit them that this was it. They caved into each other, holding each other tightly as the tears came in a fast, unstoppable flow.

"I love you."

"I love you too," Carla sobbed into her shoulder. Carla wasn't one for gushing sentiment, it went against her cutthroat reputation, but she needed her best friend to know how much she cared.

Over by the taxi, Peter and Ciaran were saying their goodbyes. Peter patted him encouragingly on the back. "Good luck to you, mate. It must be true all that luck of the Irish stuff because how you've managed to pull this one out of the bag I'll never know."

Ciaran laughed. "Well, if you're feeling left out there's plenty of room onboard for a stowaway."

Peter's eyes wandered over to Carla who was locked in a fierce embrace with Michelle. He smiled. "Thanks for the offer but I'm exactly where I want to be."

The women joined them at the taxi and as Carla and Ciaran said their goodbyes, Michelle took Peter to one side. She had a serious look on her face and Peter knew he was in for a pep talk. "Peter, these past few months you've been a rock to Carla, you really have, and I'm eternally grateful. But I'm warning you now, you better not break her heart again because this time I won't be around to pick up the pieces. Got it?"

He was about to answer when they were interrupted. "Should my ears be burning?" They both turned at Carla who was walking towards them, eyes shifting between them with suspicion.

A look of understanding passed between Michelle and Peter. "It's nothing," said Michelle, her smile returning. "Just a few parting words, that's all."

Carla stood in the middle of the street with tears streaming down her face as the black cab departed. Her best friend was gone. Now who would she turn to for advice? Who would she go out with on a Saturday night? Who would be there to pick her up when she was feeling down?

A pair of strong arms settled around her and she had her answer. A soft kiss brushed against her ear. "You've still got me, love. You always will."

* * *

**Author's note:**** Sad to see Michelle go... **

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 - Casing the Joint**

Roy looked around the flat in a daze.

"Why don't I stick the kettle on? I'll make you one of those lemon and ginger teas you like?"

Carla looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head. "I think I'm going to have a lie-down."

He walked off and Carla flinched as the bedroom door shut behind him. She turned to Peter who was leant against the kitchen counter. "Poor thing. This has really knocked him sideways."

Peter saw her distress and drew her into his arms. "I know, love, but at least he's resilient. The café will be open again in a few days and he'll be back to his usual self, you'll see."

She tried to take reassurance from his words. "Yeah, you're right."

"Anyway," he said, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you coping with all this?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You're still recovering yourself. You might be pretending otherwise but this break-in has shaken you up as much as it has Roy. And on top of that, you've just lost Michelle."

"I'm fine, honest. What I can't get my head around is why this place? Of all the places to rob on the street, why choose here? It's just a poxy flat above a café, and from what I can tell nothing's even been stolen, nothing except your dad's camera." She sighed with unease. "There's something weird about this whole thing."

Peter swallowed uncomfortably, then tried desperately to change the subject. "Anyway, onto better news, I'm going to pick up the keys from Johnny later and I thought we could case the joint, what do you think?"

"You're a bit eager. It's not even our joint yet."

"It soon will be. Come on, it'll be exciting."

She cast a wary glance at the landing. "I don't know... I don't like the thought of leaving Roy alone when he's like this."

"Don't worry, leave that to me." Peter nudged her playfully. "Come on, you know you want to…"

As always, she surrendered to his charm. "Alright. Maybe later."

* * *

Johnny was reading the newspaper at the bar when Peter walked in. He closed the paper with a friendly smile. "Afternoon, son. What can I get you? Orange juice is it?"

"Actually I'm not staying long. I just came to pick up the keys."

"Ah right, of course. They're in the back if you'd like to come on through."

The backroom looked like something out of a Laura Ashely catalogue. It looked nothing like when Peter was the landlord. He could picture it now; Eva's beauty magazines scattered on the sofa, Oliver's toys spread across the floor for someone to step on, a festering coffee cup Leanne had forgotten to take to the sink, stacks of Toyah's vegan cookbooks lining the shelves…

It had been a true family home. It hadn't been about looking pretty, it was about being practical for the baby. Susie. The very thought of her brought a lump to his throat. From day to day he tried not to think about her, it was easier that way. But when he set foot inside this room, all the memories he'd tried to forget came flooding back.

Johnny disappeared into the kitchen then reappeared moments later, dangling a set of keys. His smile faded when he saw the look on Peter's face. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Peter hadn't realised he was crying. He quickly wiped his eyes. "Sorry, it's this room…it brings back a lot of memories, you know?"

Johnny's eyes rounded with sympathy and he nodded. If anyone understood, it was Johnny. The pain Peter felt losing a child that wasn't even his couldn't possibly compare to the pain Johnny had felt losing Aidan.

Johnny was silent a moment then smiled. "Well, I've got something that might cheer you up. Here you are." He tossed over the set of keys. "So is the place officially yours now?"

"We're just waiting for the paperwork to come through, but it's as good as ours, yeah." Saying it out loud filled Peter with the same excitement he'd had when working on the boat.

"How's Carla feeling about it all?"

"If I'm honest we've not had much of a chance to talk about it what with the burglary, but she's excited, I think. Hopefully it'll give her a sense of purpose again."

Johnny smiled. "I think you two will be great at running the place. But if things ever get too much, you know me and Jenny are always happy to step in."

"Thanks, mate. I appreciate that."

Peter tipped his head then turned to leave.

"One more thing," Johnny said, calling him back. "Yesterday, that fight outside the pub with Gary... What was that all about?"

Peter had hoped Johnny had forgotten about that. He tried to brush it off. "Oh, it was nothing. Just a misunderstanding, that's all."

"Must've been quite some misunderstanding. You nearly choked the poor lad to death. Peter, I wasn't born yesterday, there's something I'm missing here and I'd be really grateful if you could enlighten me."

Peter pushed the door closed. He didn't want Jenny or Kate overhearing what he had to say. "If I tell you then you've got to promise me you'll keep it to yourself. That means not a word to Jenny, or Kate and Carla. Got it?"

"Not a word, I swear."

Johnny was a man of his word. Peter knew he could trust him.

"Alright," Peter said, lowering his voice. "I think it was Gary who sabotaged the factory roof. Wait, what am I saying? I don't think it, I know it."

Johnny sat himself down, not trusting himself to stand. He blinked furiously as he tried to process this new wave of information. But as much as he tried, it wouldn't compute. The monster who killed Rana and ruined his daughters' lives couldn't be a bloke he served a pint to every day. A bloke who smiled at him when they passed on the street.

"How..." Johnny could barely string his words together. "How do you know it was him?"

"He owed money to some very nasty people. He thought if he sabotaged the roof, Carla would give him the job of replacing it. A job like that would equal big money, which would settle his debts, get the wolves off his back so to speak…" After a pause, Peter added, "I'm so sorry, Johnny."

"So did he admit it or what?"

"Not exactly, but on the night of Michelle's wedding, Nick went round to his place and threatened him. Nick made out there were photos of him messing with the roof. Said that if he didn't confess by the end of the night he'd show them to the police."

Johnny sat up, eyes wide. "There are pictures of him on the roof?!"

"No, Nick was lying. It was all a bluff to get him to confess. But it backfired because that same night, we got broken in to and the only thing that was stolen was the camera Nick alleged the pictures were on…" Peter raised an eyebrow. "Does that sound like a coincidence to you?"

"What are you saying? That Gary broke into the flat and stole it?"

"Or paid someone to, maybe."

Johnny was silent as he took it all in. Then he ran a frustrated hand through his thinning hair. "So the fight yesterday, that was you confronting the little toe rag?" Peter nodded. "And? What did he say? Did he confess?"

"I was so close to getting a confession, Johnny, so close... but then the Calvary arrived."

Johnny faltered. "But Peter, if he's not actually admitted to anything then how can you be sure it's him?"

"I just know, alright. I appreciate how that sounds but you just have to believe me. I saw it in his eyes. He did it."

"If it's true, if he really did do it, then we need to tell the police."

"And say what? Without evidence, there's nothing they can do."

Peter noticed Johnny staring at the wall ahead where a picture of his three children hung proudly above the mantelpiece. "My girls have been through hell because of him. I came so close to losing Carla the way I lost Aidan, so close…"

Peter laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know, and believe me, I'm just as angry as you are, but if we're going to bring him to justice, we have to be smart. Kate and Carla can't find out about this, not until there's solid proof."

"And where are we supposed to get that from?"

"Don't worry. Me and Nick are working on it."

Johnny stared at him like he'd grown three heads. "You and Nick? That's not something I ever thought I'd hear."

"It's not something I thought I'd ever say either," Peter chuckled. "But right now Nick's neck is as much on the line as Carla's, so we've got a mutual interest in taking Gary down."

Johnny nodded. "Alright. I won't say anything about this to anyone, not even Jenny, but if you need help, I'm your man."

* * *

As Peter headed out of the pub, he spotted two black cabs pull up outside the Platt's house. Shona and Sarah stepped out of one, and Nick and Leanne stepped out of the other.

Shona, who was dressed in formal attire, a far cry from her checked shirts and ripped jeans, hurled insults at the couple. "I hope you're proud of yourself! You swore to David you'd tell the truth in that courtroom and instead you lied through your teeth!"

"He's our brother," Sarah added angrily. "How could you do that to him? He's family!"

Shona laughed. "We're talking about granny robber here, Sarah. Clearly family doesn't mean that much to him."

Leanne scowled at the two women and tugged impatiently on Nick's arm. "Come on, let's go. You don't have to listen to this."

"That's right, walk away!" Shona yelled after them. "Go back to playing happy families with Simon and Oliver whilst David, your real flesh and blood, rots away in a cell!"

Shona chased after them and spun Nick around. "Why don't you come back to the house and explain to Max and Lily why their dad's not coming home? Come on, I'm serious, why should I have to break it to them?"

"David got what he deserved," Leanne sniped, and she hurried Nick along.

Shona came up behind Leanne and grabbed a fistful of blonde hair. Leanne shrieked and Sarah rushed to intervene. After a short struggle, Sarah managed to prise Shona away. "Come on, Shona," she said, "let's go inside. They're not worth it."

The show was over as they retreated into the Platts' house, and Peter continued onwards to the cafe.

"Peter, wait up!"

He turned at the familiar voice and saw Toyah running over from the medical centre, her floral dress floating in the breeze.

"I've been meaning to catch up with you," she said, then her eyes lifted to the window above the café. "How's Roy doing? I've been worried sick about him."

"He's doing okay. He's back home now. We thought it best to shut the café for a few days, you know."

"Yeah, of course. I was thinking of popping round later if that's alright with you?"

"That's fine. I'm sure he'd like that."

There was an awkward beat of silence. There always was whenever they spoke. "So anyway," Toyah continued nervously, "how are you? I haven't had a chance to talk to you since you got back from Carlisle. I can't imagine it's been easy looking after Carla and now Roy. I hope you're coping okay, taking care of yourself?"

"Ever the councillor aren't you? I'm fine, really. And Carla, she's getting better every day. The medication's working wonders."

Toyah gave a genuine smile. "That's good. Listen, we might not be together anymore but that doesn't mean I don't still care about you. So if you're struggling, or ever just need to talk, I'm always around to listen."

Although Peter wouldn't take her up on the offer, it was nice to know it was there. "Thanks, Toyah. I appreciate it."

He turned to leave when she caught his arm. "There's one more thing. Imran said he saw you and Gary in the street yesterday. That you called Gary a murderer…" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "You don't think Gary was the one behind the roof, do you?"

If Peter told her of his suspicions then she would surely tell Imran and all hell would break loose.

"Peter..." She said his name with the same affection that she used to. "If you know something, then you need to tell me."

He shrugged off her touch like she was diseased. "I don't know anything."

He hurried inside the café and bolted the door behind him so that she couldn't follow.

Upstairs, he found Carla sat by the window, gazing onto the street below. "You look very mindful sat there like that, love."

She turned from the window with a thoughtful smile, and he couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she looked. "I didn't hear you come in," she said.

"Quiet as a mouse, me. Is Roy about?"

"He's still asleep. Or pretending to be."

Peter knew how worried she was about Roy and luckily he had just the thing to take her mind off it. He dangled the set of keys from his pocket. "How about we pay a visit to the bistro down the road?"

"Peter, I already told you, I'm not leaving Roy on his own."

"Don't worry about that, I've sorted it. Tyrone's coming over in five minutes. So come on, what's stopping you now?"

His chocolatey brown eyes were wide and beseeching, full of child-like adventure, and Carla found herself unable to resist. She dragged herself from the window ledge. "I'll get my coat."

* * *

In the empty bistro, Carla stood behind the bar and smoothed her hands along the polished marble counter. "It doesn't feel real somehow, that this place is ours."

Peter swivelled on the barstool, admiring his new empire. "I don't know about you but I rather like it."

A wave of nervousness stirred within her. "You and me running this place… you really think it can work?"

He shrugged. "Why not? We've worked together before. We got on pretty well at the factory from what I recall."

"Yeah, we did. Until you sold out to Nick behind my back."

At her accusing tone, he closed his eyes. He wished he could erase that unsavoury detail from history. "That aside, we made a pretty good team."

"That aside, yes, we did."

He admired her stood behind the bar and couldn't help thinking how much it suited her. He nodded to the fridge behind her. "I'll have an orange juice if you're serving."

Her brow quirked. "An orange juice you say? I think I'll join you."

She grabbed two cans from the mini-fridge and poured them into glasses, then joined him in a toast. Then she set her glass down and her eyes once again roamed the empty restaurant and feelings of apprehension and uncertainty grew stronger. She had always dreamed of running a restaurant. She very nearly had, with Leanne Battersby of all people, but then Paul had died and the factory landed in her lap. Her old self would have jumped headfirst into an opportunity like this. But she wasn't that person anymore. Rana's death and the breakdown that followed had changed her. Had shaken her confidence in her abilities. What if she didn't have what it took to run this place? What if it ended in disaster like the factory? What if she got someone else hurt?

Peter noticed she'd gone quiet. "You alright, love?"

"Yeah, fine, I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Well… there are things we have to consider here. You're an alcoholic for starters. And it's no secret I put away more than is good for me. Or used to, anyway. Is it really the smartest move, us running a bar? I don't want you falling off the wagon again. You've only just got back on it."

"And the only reason I fell off it was because I thought I'd lost you. I'll have you know that before that I'd been sober four years, seven months and—"

"Twenty-eight days. Yes, I know."

"I ran the Rovers and never touched a drop," he reminded her, hoping it would inspire a bit of confidence.

"But things were different back then. You had Toyah for a start. She was grounded, gave you stability. Let's face it, baby, I'm anything but stable."

"Stable? Pffft. No fun at all."

He managed to win a small smile from her, which made him smile. The two of them together like this filled him with a sense of nostalgia. He motioned around them. "You know what this reminds me of? New year's Eve in the Snooker hall."

The memory brought a smile to her face. They had shared something special that night. Exorcized old demons and put things to rest. She'd had no idea then, sat on the dank floor, watching the fireworks from a narrow window, that the following year they'd be back together and stronger than ever. And she certainly couldn't have predicted this place falling in their laps.

"Looks like I was right after all," he said. "Our futures really are linked."

"And I meant what I said too. About wanting you to be happy…" She let the words settle, then added, "You would tell me if you weren't happy, wouldn't you?"

His head tilted in curiosity at her sudden line of questioning. "Where's all this coming from?"

She shrugged impassively as if it was a thought that had only just occurred rather than something that had been on her mind for weeks. "I just got to thinking back to when I moved back to the street. You and Toyah seemed so happy. I'd never seen you like that before, so relaxed, so carefree. And like you said, you never touched a drop working behind the bar…"

Suddenly it clicked in Peter's mind where all this was coming from. "You saw me and Toyah talking from the window, didn't you?"

She lowered her gaze. "Maybe…"

He lifted her chin with gentle fingers. "Sweetheart, me and Toyah are over. In fact, we should never have begun. And our relationship, no matter how picture-perfect it looked on the outside, had more than its share of problems, believe me. Case and point; Susie."

Toyah's deceit about the baby had impacted both their lives. Peter had lost a daughter, and Carla had gained a niece she never knew existed at the price of losing a brother. The devastation from that one lie had forever left its mark.

Carla held up her hands. "Yes, alright, point taken. I guess what I'm trying to say is that before all this you were happy. You would've gladly sailed off into the sunset if I hadn't come chasing after you, dumping my problems at your door…"

He frowned, not at all liking what she was implying. "What are you saying? That there's still time to get away?"

"No, I—"

"What then?"

She paused as she thought of how best to put it. "Since the roof came down everything's been a whirlwind, and we've not had a chance to talk about us, about what we're doing."

He patted the barstool beside him. "Okay. Let's talk."

She came and sat beside him and he took her hands in his. Her insecurities had surfaced and he needed to make her see that he was in this for the long haul, that he wouldn't hurt her like before. "You remember Robert's vows at the wedding? About how grateful he was that Michelle had given him another chance?"

A sly smirk appeared on her face. "You mean before Vicky made her grand entrance?"

"Yeah, before that," he said with a small chuckle. "Well, what he said really struck me because that's exactly what you've given me. After what I did to you with Tina, I never thought you'd look at me again, but you did…"

His voice started to crack and his hand tightened around hers.

"Sometimes I look at poor Kate grieving for Rana and I think what if it had been you that died that day. Or I think what might've happened if I hadn't gotten to you in time on the fire escape…" Emotion choked the back of his throat, but the encouraging look in her eyes helped him to keep going. "The thought of losing you eats me up inside. And it makes me all the more grateful for what I've got…"

A tear slipped down her cheek. "Peter…"

"Marry me."

Carla blinked, certain she had misheard. "What did you just say?"

"Let's make another go of it, a proper go of it."

She let out an involuntary laugh. "Have you been drinking?"

"Is it really such a crazy idea?"

"Yes! Yes, it is! We've only been back together five minutes, this place has landed in our laps, we've got an investigation hanging over our heads… and you think now's the time to tie the knot?"

"I do." Still holding onto her hand, he got down on one knee. "Carla Connor, love of my life, will you marry me?"

Carla wondered if the meds had worn off and this was all a crazy hallucination. But it only took one look into his dreamboat eyes to know that it wasn't. A part of her was screaming to say yes, but another part, the more cautious part that had been bitten before, was saying no. Oh, but how could she say no to that face, those eyes? Faced with an impossible decision, she did what she always did… she ran away.

* * *

Carla arrived back at the flat where Roy sat in darkness, eyes closed, listening to his train soundtrack. She flicked on the light and his eyes snapped open, his tranquillity ruined. "Where's Tyrone? He's meant to be looking after you."

"I'm not a child, Carla. I don't need looking after."

She joined him on the sofa and sighed as she kicked off her heels. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Maybe the soothing train noises would stop the millions of thoughts swirling around her brain? After less than a minute, she gave up. What had possessed Peter to ask that question? Everything had been going fine between them. They'd been enjoying taking things slow, and then, bam! He hits her with 'Will you marry me?'

"Where's Peter this evening?"

The question snatched her from her thoughts. Not wanting to get into it, she answered plainly, "I left him at the bistro."

"I detect a hint of disdain in your voice. Has something happened?"

She laughed. "If by something you mean did Peter just get down on one knee and ask me to marry him? Then yes, something happened."

Roy sat up, blinking hard. "Oh… I see."

Closing her eyes, Carla massaged the bridge of her nose. "What on earth was he thinking? I've just come out of the nuthouse, in a few months I could be stitching mailbags, and he decides now's a good time to pop the question?! Has he forgotten how much of a disaster it was the last time? Tina, the baby… need I say more?"

"You make valid points. However, are you saying that if the timing had been different that perhaps you would have said yes?"

"No! I…" She ran her hand through her hair in frustration. "Oh, I don't know!"

Her feelings were so jumbled, so conflicted, that even she couldn't make sense of them, let alone try and explain them to Roy.

"Don't get me wrong, I love him to pieces, I just don't know if I could ever bring myself to…"

"Trust him again?"

Some called Roy weird and emotionally distant, but he'd always been scarily attuned to her emotions. She nodded. "I know he says he's changed but what if he hasn't? I don't think I could survive it if things went wrong again."

Roy gave a thoughtful nod. "I suppose the only way to tell if someone has truly changed is through their actions. So far, what have Peter's actions been towards you? He abandoned his voyage to be by your side, he stood by you when others, myself included, turned their backs; he searched day and night when you went missing, and he uprooted to Carlisle whilst you sought treatment. Would you say those are the actions of a changed man?"

* * *

It was one of those rare evenings Ken had the house to himself and he sat in his armchair reading a literary classic off the shelf whilst the best of Mozart played from the stereo. However, his bliss was short-lived as Peter came skulking in with a face like thunder and took a seat at the table, dropping his head in his hands.

Ken folded the page of his book and set it aside. "Peter, what's wrong?"

"Dad, I've done something really stupid."

Ken's mind instantly jumped to two things: booze and women.

He removed his glasses and braced himself for whatever bombshell his son was about to unload on him. "Peter… what have you done?"

"I asked Carla to marry me."

The knot in Ken's stomach turned into delight and he gave a relieved smile. "That's wonderful news! What did she say?"

"That's just it, dad. She didn't say anything. Just legged it out the door faster than Usain Bolt in a hundred-metre sprint!"

Joining Peter at the table, Ken laid a supportive hand on his shoulder. "You never said you were planning to propose. How long has it been on your mind?"

"It's been on my mind for a while now, but it was only at Michelle's wedding that I knew I was serious about it. Then tonight at the bistro we got talking, you know, properly talking, and I don't know… it just felt like the right time to ask her."

The table shook as Peter banged his fist against it. "Why did I think she'd say yes? We've only been back together five minutes for crying out loud! I don't blame her for running away, I really don't. Given how badly I treated her last time, it's no wonder the thought of marrying me again makes her want to run a mile. Hell, I'd run a mile."

"You're being too hard on yourself."

"Things have been going so well between us. And now I've gone and ruined it all."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. Go home and talk to her. If she still doesn't want to marry you that doesn't mean the relationship's over. It simply means she's not ready to make that kind of commitment, which, given her current mental state, is probably very wise." Ken patted his son's back. "Go on, Peter. The longer you leave it, the worse it'll be."

* * *

Peter walked into the café and frowned at the silhouette sat in darkness. Switching on the light, Carla appeared, sat at one of the tables in her dressing gown, nursing a mug of coffee.

Peter studied her from the doorway. "What are you doing sat down here in the dark?"

"I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake Roy, so I came down here."

The silence that settled between them felt odd and unfamiliar. Peter sat himself across from her yet Carla refused to look at him. "Love... can we please talk about earlier?"

She was silent.

"I get why you ran away," he continued softly. "I would've done exactly the same in your shoes. It's because you don't trust me, isn't it? You think I'll hurt you again like last time?"

Her eyes lifted as she went to reassure him, but she stopped herself. What good was lying to him? It was lies that had destroyed their marriage in the first place. She sighed. "Alright, yes, I suppose you're right. In the end, it boils down to trust." She saw the hurt and disappointment on his face, and added quietly, "I'm sorry."

Peter had hoped the last few months had proved how much he'd changed from the man who had broken her heart. But it seemed he still had some way to go. After all, trust was a difficult thing to earn back once it had been broken.

"I'm the one who's sorry," he said after a lengthy silence. "We had a good thing going here then I went and opened my big mouth. So how about we just pretend I never said anything and—"

"I'll marry you."

Her words stopped him in his tracks and he stared at her, certain he was imagining things. "What?"

"I said, yes, I'll marry you."

The words were spoken with absolute certainty and this time there was no mistaking them.

"You're serious?"

"On one condition. Honesty. Last time you broke my heart. Tore it to pieces. I can't go through that again. I won't. So if you're serious about this, then there can be no secrets, no lies. I need to be able to trust you, Peter."

Peter wondered what God was smiling down on him that this incredible, beautiful woman had given him this second chance, but he sure as hell was grateful for it. He was determined now to be the best husband ever, to be what he should have been all those years ago. He was at her side in an instant, pulling her into his arms and showering her with kisses. "Oh love, you can! I promise, I'll never let you down again."

Finally, Carla let go of a smile. "Then yeah… let's do this."

* * *

**Author's note: Hope you liked that! In this chapter, I really wanted to touch upon their history and use it to influence their reactions. Because if Peter ever proposed in the show, I think Carla would definitely be wary of marrying him again (but of course she'd eventually say yes!) **

**If you liked what you read, please let me know by leaving a comment. It really makes me feel like all the effort I put in is worthwhile. Also, if you have any thoughts on where the story is going or where you would like it to go, please share, I'd love to hear! **

**Thanks again.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: Thanks for all your kind words! I've read them all and will try to incorporate any suggestions made!**

* * *

Chapter 8 - The Grand Reopening

Gary had gone to stay with Zack and Nicola for a couple of weeks which meant Peter was able to focus his efforts into getting the bistro ready ahead of its grand reopening. Tonight was the big night. It wasn't anything too extravagant, just a couple of canapes and the promise of free drinks, which was bound to get the locals queuing round the block.

Peter knocked before entering the office. Carla paced back and forth in front of the desk, talking on the phone. She wore a black jumpsuit with a gold bangle and killer heels that made her look twice as tall and intimidating than she already was. It was an incredibly sexy look, Peter had to admit, yet it retained that powerful, sophisticated edge. They'd both made an extra effort with their appearance tonight, so much so that Carla wore her hair up, something she never did. It hung down her back in a tousled ponytail.

She stopped pacing and gave one of those exaggerated, fake laughs she'd perfected from years of schmoozing clients. "Alright, Richard. I'll see you later. Looking forward to it. Bye now!"

Her smile dropped the instant she hung up the phone.

"Who was that?" Peter asked.

"Richard Bridges. You know, the foodie that writes for the Manchester Evening News. He's coming along tonight and his review's going up in next week's paper."

"Wow, that's amazing."

"Terrifying more like."

She started pacing again. She'd been fretting about the reopening all week. She'd barely slept a wink last night. Peter was beginning to worry she'd taken on too much too soon.

He drew her into his arms. "Stop worrying, will you? Everything's going to be fine. Tonight marks the start of a new chapter for us, so let's try and enjoy it, yeah?"

She let up a smile, a nervous one, but a smile nonetheless. "Yeah, you're right. You're always right."

"Can I get that in writing?"

She playfully hit his arm and he laughed, taking her by the hand. "Come on, the others are waiting for us outside for a pep talk."

Ryan poked his head out the main doors and stole a peek at the crowd. Then he returned to the bar where Bethany stood in anxious wait. "How's it looking out there?"

"It's pretty packed. I wish this many people showed up at my gigs."

"Oh, why did you have to tell me that?" Bethany whined. "I'm dead nervous now!"

"Nobody needs to be nervous." Peter came and stood behind the bar with Carla at his side. He beckoned the rest of the staff to gather around. "Tonight's going to run like clockwork, we're going to smash it!"

"Not the glasses, I hope."

Carla rolled her eyes at her nephew. "No Ryan, not the glasses."

"So just remember, big smiles," said Peter. "And if someone's not got a drink—"

"Put one in their hand!"

Peter clicked his fingers at Bethany. "Exactly!" He turned to Carla, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. "Anything you want to add, love?"

"No, I think you've about covered it."

Peter clapped his hands together. "Right then, places people! Let's get this show on the road!"

Ryan hadn't been exaggerating about the crowd. Nearly the entire street had turned up. First through the doors were the factory lot, never ones to turn down a free drink. Following them in was Sally and Tim who were dressed like they were attending a royal wedding. After them came Liz and Moira, both dressed to the nines, a typical look for Liz, but an alien one for Moira. Her leather mini skirt kept riding up and every minute or so she would tug it down to stop her knickers from showing. Love was certainly in the air as Abi and Kevin showed up together, sparking rumours the pair were dating. Then Maria walked in with a mystery man on her arm whom she'd met from online dating.

Johnny, Jenny and Kate had also come to show their support and Jenny was taking full advantage of the free bar. Less than an hour into the night and she was already slurring her words and hanging off her barstool. Johnny and Kate looked embarrassed to be stood next to her.

"Isn't it great that the only two boozers on this street are owned by Connors?" Jenny was saying to anyone who'd listen. "Now that's what I call enterprise, kids. The Apprentice, here we come!" Jenny downed her drink and grabbed another from a passing tray. "You know, they should change the name of this street to Connornation Street. Ha! See what I did there?"

"Yes, very clever," said Johnny with a strained smile. He looked like he wanted to throttle her. "Now remember, love, just because it's a free bar doesn't mean you have to drink the place dry."

Jenny snorted into her glass. "That's like telling the kids at Willy Wonka's factory to go steady— never going to happen! I'll be glugging this prosecco like the fat kid glugged from the chocolate river, alright!"

Kate shook her head in wonderment. "What is she going on about?"

Johnny sighed despairingly. "God knows, love. God knows."

Over at the buffet table Gemma and Chesney were filling their boots, piling their plates high, whilst Ken, Tracy and Daniel chatted amongst themselves. Gemma waved a cocktail sausage in Chesney's face. "Try one of these! They're mint! I've had ten already!"

"Save some for the rest of us, eh, piggy?"

Gemma wielded the sausage at Tracy like it was a weapon. "Oi! I'll have you know I'm eating for five thank you very much, so you can shut your gob!"

As Gemma spoke, bits of food went flying out of her mouth, making Tracy blanch. "I wish you'd shut yours. I can see bits of food trundling around in there like clothes in a washing machine!"

"Are you calling me a washing machine?!"

"No! What kind of insult is that? I'm calling you a greedy cow who talks with her mouth full!"

"Tracy, please," Ken begged quietly. "This is your brother's night. Don't cause a scene."

"I'm sorry, dad, but this is supposed to be a sophisticated do and she's treating that buffet like it's a man versus food challenge! Why have they let her sort in here anyway?"

"Right! That's it!" Gemma grabbed a bowl of dip off the table and charged at Tracy, tipping it over her head. Tracy squealed as she felt the top of her head. "Eww, what is that?" Her finger came away covered in green gunk and she sniffed it. "Is that… guacamole?! I hate guacamole!" Nostrils flaring, she stormed over to the buffet table, ignoring the pleas of Ken and Daniel, and picked up the platter of cocktail sausages. "Like these do you, Gemma? Here, have the lot!"

One by one, mini sausages went flying through the air, hitting poor Chesney who Gemma was using as a human shield.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Peter stepped in between the warring women. He snatched the plate of sausages out of Tracy's hand and briskly escorted her over to the bar. He handed her some napkins for her hair. "Always causing trouble, aren't you, Trace?"

Tracy sent daggers across the crowded room to where Gemma was being calmed down by Chesney. "She started it! I don't know why you let that Vicky Pollard wannabe in here! She's only here to freeload."

"Isn't everyone?"

Tracy's hair looked like it was drenched in green vomit and she dabbed at it with a napkin. "Have I got it all out?"

"That's most of it," Peter lied. Bethany passed with a tray of drinks and Peter handed one to his sister. Having a drink in her hand seemed to calm her down. Peter motioned around them. "So, what do you think to all this then?"

Tracy nodded her approval. "Well, you've gone from part-time cabbie to full-time owner of an upmarket eatery. I'd call that going up in the world."

"I hope there's family discount when me, Sinead and Bertie come for our tea," Daniel said as he and Ken came walking over.

"What do you need family discount for?" Tracy quizzed. "You already get staff discount. But the rest of us would love a family discount."

"Family discount? Get out of here!" Peter's eyes scanned the familiar faces around the room and he noticed someone was missing. "Where's Steve tonight? I thought he might've come along."

Tracy groaned. "God knows where that man is. If I had to guess, he's probably with that bloody horse of his."

"Horse?"

"Yeah. Didn't I tell you? We got a horse. Well, it's technically not our horse, it's more of a communal horse, but Steve's got this weird obsession with it. He dresses it up like a unicorn and everything. Even takes it to kids parties."

"Because that's not creepy at all…" Daniel muttered under his breath.

"Honestly, he spends more time with that bleeding animal than he does his wife and daughter!"

Carla, who was working behind the bar, couldn't help but wade in. "Careful, Trace. Anyone would think you were jealous."

Tracy scoffed. "Of a horse? As if."

Peter leaned across the bar and pecked Carla sweetly on the lips. "You alright, love? Need a hand?"

"Nope. Everything's under control this side. You carry on mingling."

"Has that critic arrived yet?"

Carla gave a subtle tilt of her head to a bald-headed gentleman sat alone at the end of the bar with a martini. "That's Richard there. I chatted to him earlier, tried to put the charmers on him. Maybe you could go say hello, work your magic?"

He was about to do so when chanting voices started up behind him. It was the factory lot. They were huddled in a booth, rhythmically banging their empty glasses on the table. "Mrs C! Mrs C! Mrs C!"

Peter smirked at Carla. "You've got quite the fan club."

She whacked him with her tea towel before calling over, "What's up you miserable lot? And it's Carla now. I'm not your boss anymore."

"You'll always be Mrs C to us," said Sean, which won a few drunken cheers from the others.

Izzy raised her empty glass above her head. "We need more drinks! We're dying of thirst over here!"

Right on cue, Bethany stepped out of the kitchen with a fresh tray. "Did someone say more drinks?"

They cheered as she brought them over.

With the atmosphere at its highest and the room at its fullest, Peter decided now was the time to say a few words. He grabbed a fork and tapped it against an empty glass. "If I could get a bit of hush, there's a couple of things I'd like to say."

The lively room quietened and all eyes went to him. He smiled now he had their attention. "I know you're all busy enjoying yourselves so I'll try to keep this short and sweet, but Carla and I just wanted to thank you all for coming out tonight and showing your support. It means the world to us. We hope you'll come again soon..." He paused and felt for the ring in his pocket. The whole night had been building to this moment and now it was upon him, he was suddenly nervous. His eyes sought his father from the crowd. Ken smiled encouragingly for him to go on. "There's just one more thing I'd like to say…" Peter turned to an unsuspecting Carla. "Love, come here."

Carla stepped nervously out from behind the bar and he took her by the hand. Holding her eyes, he got down on one knee and presented her with a diamond ring. It was simple, understated, and he'd known the moment he saw it that it was the one – just as he'd known Carla was the one when she'd walked into that AA meeting all those years ago. Of course, he'd tried to deny it back then, telling himself he loved Leanne, but in the end, he couldn't fight what he knew in his heart.

"I know we did this the other day, but I wanted to do it with the ring and an audience to be sure I didn't dream the whole thing up. I'll try not to get too soppy because I don't want to embarrass you, but in life, people always talk about the one. I used to think that was a load of sentimental guff. Then I met you. You're my best friend, the one person I always come back to, and I want us to be partners, not just in running this place, but for the rest of our lives. Because you're the one. So Carla Connor... will you marry me?"

She swiped at the tears running down her face. "You've gone and made my mascara run."

He laughed through his own tears. "Is that a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes! Of course I'll marry you!"

The room broke into applause and the diamond ring slipped seamlessly onto her finger. Never had there been a more perfect fit. She admired it under the light. "Peter, it's beautiful."

He kissed her hand. "Just like you."

He got to his feet and their family and friends cheered as they shared a kiss. For the first time in a long time, Peter felt good about the future. It didn't involve court cases and prison visits, it involved the two of them running this place as man and wife, and it looked brighter than ever.

* * *

**Author's note: Just a small chapter, but enjoy the calm, because a storm's coming...**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Grave Encounters

The bustling roads had been replaced by long, winding ones as they ventured further out of the city. "Where the hell is he taking us?" Peter asked.

Nick shrugged cluelessly. "God knows. Somewhere remote, that's for sure."

Peter could feel his stress levels hitting the roof and he rolled down the window in the hope that some fresh air might calm his nerves. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Driving around with you like we're on some flaming cop show!"

"This isn't my ideal way to spend an afternoon either, you know."

"I should be at the bistro helping Carla."

The bistro had only been up and running a week and already he was back playing detective.

"You are helping Carla," Nick reminded him. "By ensuring the real culprit is put away and not her. Where does she think you are anyway?"

Peter shook his head at the lie he'd told her. "I said I was meeting some suppliers in town."

"Oh, the number of times I've pulled that excuse," Nick recalled fondly. "Please don't tell me she fell for it?"

She had fallen for it. Not only that, but she hadn't doubted him for a second, and that's what hurt the most. He'd promised that from now on there would be no secrets between them, no lies, and already he was lying about what he was doing. But this time it wasn't to deceive her, but to protect her. Still, Carla wouldn't see it that way if she ever found out. God, he needed a cigarette…

Nick glanced over at him as he lit one up. "Do you have to do that in here?"

"I've rolled the window down. What's the big deal?"

"They stink." Nick crinkled his nose in disgust and batted away the smoke as it wafted in his direction. "Don't you look at all those horrible pictures on the back of fag packets? You should really give up, you know."

"Because it's that easy. How about this, I'll give up the smokes just as soon as you give up being an arsehole?"

The radio that had been quietly playing in the background was intercepted by an incoming call from Leanne.

"You going to answer that?" Peter asked.

"No."

"Might be important."

Leanne called again and again until eventually Nick caved. The call played through the car's speaker system. "Nick, where the hell are you?" her voice bellowed down the line. "You said you'd be home an hour ago. We're supposed to be going out for dinner, remember?"

"I know, I haven't forgotten. Thing is, I've got held up with a client in town. Looks like I'm going to be stuck here a while."

"Nick," she whined.

"I'm sorry, Lee, but what can I do? He's an important client and we need the business. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..."

"We'll talk about this properly once I'm home," he said. "I love you."

He waited to hear the sentiment repeated but the line cut dead.

"Ouch_._ She didn't say it back."

"Oh, shut up."

They were interrupted by another incoming call, only this time it was from Peter's phone. Peter retrieved it from his back pocket and closed his eyes when he saw Carla's name flashing on the screen. "Please no…"

Nick smirked. "Your turn."

Peter tossed the cigarette onto the road and rolled up his window before taking the call. He tried his best to sound upbeat. "Hiya, love."

"Hi darlin', I was just wondering what time you'll be back? It's just things are pretty full-on here and I'm starting to feel the strain."

"I'm on my way back now, love, but the traffic on these roads…"

"Bad is it?"

"Bad? It's a nightmare! I've barely moved this past half hour. Must be an accident up ahead or something."

God, he hated himself. Hated how easily the lies flowed from his mouth.

"Oh dear. Well, not to worry. Just get back here as quick as you can then, yeah? I said to Maria I'd babysit Liam in an hour so I need you back here to make up the numbers."

"I'll do my best. I love you."

"Love you, too."

He hung up and faced the window as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Stop beating yourself up," said Nick. "It's not like you're sneaking off to meet another woman, is it? You're doing this to protect her."

"It's still lying."

"Then it's a good job you're a good liar, isn't it?" Nick winked at him.

Peter cocked his head. "I'm sorry, do you find this funny?"

"Not at all."

"At least I got an 'I love you' back."

Nick rolled his eyes, smiling to himself as he shook his head. "Everything always has to be a competition with you, doesn't it?"

"What can I say? I've got a new business, I'm engaged to the woman of my dreams—"

Nick's laughter cut him off. "Oh yeah, last night's proposal in the bistro must've been like DeJa'Vu for Carla. That's where I proposed to her. Well, technically she proposed to me first but that's splitting hairs. I'm surprised she didn't tell you."

A surge of jealousy rose up inside of Peter, but he forced it back down, refusing to let Nick get a rise out of him. "In her defence, your marriage only lasted a day so it probably slipped her mind."

"Hmm."

_"Hmm_ what?"

"I was just thinking."

"Careful, you'll do yourself an injury," Peter jibed. "Thinking about what?"

Nick's eyes remained on the road ahead. "All things considered, the roof collapse worked out rather nicely for you, didn't it? I mean, if Carla's head hadn't been so all over the place she would never have taken you back. But when disaster strikes at the factory, she has a meltdown and you get to play the gallant knight and come riding to her rescue."

"If you seriously think I'd exploit a situation like that just to get back in her bed then you're sick in the head."

Nick tapped his temple. "I am sick in the head. Brain damage, remember?"

"Brain damage or no brain damage, keep talking like that and I'll give you a fat lip."

Gary's white van made a sharp turn and Peter pointed up ahead. "Quick! Pull in here!"

Tires screeched as Nick made a sudden swerve and followed Gary's van down the narrow dirt road. "Where the hell's he taking us now?"

The road ended at the outskirts of a forest. Gary parked up and ventured out into the woodland. Peter and Nick parked a little further up the road to ensure Gary wouldn't spot them before following after him.

"This isn't weird at all," Peter muttered under his breath as they trekked side by side through the forest. All he could think about was Carla at the bistro. He wasn't going to make it back in time for her. He just hoped whatever was out here was worth it. They reached a clearing and crouched behind a fallen tree as Gary disappeared inside an old, dilapidated shed. Moments later, Gary reappeared with a shovel and scoured the ground, counting his footsteps, before stopping at a mound of earth. He peered over his shoulder, making sure he was alone, then started to dig.

Several minutes later and Gary was sweating heavily; his face was bright red and his checkered shirt was soaked through.

Crouched behind the fallen tree, Peter and Nick continued to watch. "What do you reckon he's digging up?"

Peter shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's buried deep."

"Evidence maybe? Cash?... a body?"

Peter nearly scoffed at the last part, but with the loan shark missing and his assistant convinced Gary had done away with him, maybe a body wasn't such an outlandish suggestion after all.

He swallowed. "We'll find out soon enough, won't we."

Two female joggers came running over. Gary saw them approach and started frantically shovelling dirt back into the hole.

They stopped and asked him what he was doing.

"How's he going to explain away this one," Nick wondered out loud. "A man out in the middle of the woods, digging a hole… that's not sketchy at all."

Gary lowered his shovel and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I'm just burying my dog. Buster loved coming for walks out here. It was his favourite place."

"A dead dog? God, he comes up with more elaborate lies than you," Nick muttered under his breath.

One of the women clasped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Can we help you dig?"

Gary shook his head. "I can manage. But thank you."

The women carried on their way and Gary continued filling the hole.

Nick tugged on Peter's arm. "Come on, we should make a move. It's getting dark and we need to get back to the car before Gary does. We'll come back another time."

* * *

In the bistro, Carla was polishing glasses when Ryan returned to the bar. "Did you check in with the suppliers?"

He nodded. "I just got off the phone with them. They had no idea what I was on about. Apparently, Peter never arranged to meet them."

Alarm bells sounded in her head. So Peter was lying, which begged the question, where was he? And what was he up to?

"Are you alright?"

She forced a smile. "I'm fine. Thanks for telling me, Ry. Listen, I've got to go, Maria's waiting. Are you going to be all right holding the fort?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Carla hung up her apron and headed for the double doors when Ryan called after her. "For what it's worth, I'm sure Peter's got a perfectly sound explanation."

"He better had. Or there'll be hell to pay."

Out on the street, she spied Tracy leaving number one and chased after her. Tracy sighed in dismay at her approach. "Oh, what do you want?"

"You haven't seen Peter, have you?"

Tracy smiled smugly to herself and Carla regretted coming over. She was about to walk away when Tracy said, "I have as it happens. I saw him getting into a car this morning...with Nick."

"Nick? Is this a wind-up?"

"That was pretty much my reaction too."

Tracy walked away and Carla was left standing in the middle of the road, reeling from what she had just been told. Peter had gotten into a car with Nick? It sounded too implausible to be true. They hated each other, were sworn enemies. What the hell was going on?

One thing was certain, Peter sure had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

Gary pulled up on the cobbled street and collapsed against the steering wheel. He'd had the day from hell. It began with an unexpected visit from Rick Neelan's daughter, Kelly, who was sniffing for information about her father. She had reported him missing and the police were hoping to track his whereabouts through his phone. This had sent Gary into a wild panic because Rick's phone was likely to be buried with him. So he drove out to the woodland with the intent of retrieving the phone and destroying it, but thanks to two nosey joggers he hadn't gotten the chance. He would have to go back tomorrow and finish the job.

He lifted his head from the wheel and stared up at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. He barely recognised himself anymore. He wasn't Gary the soldier, the hero. He was Gary the murderer.

A silver car pulled up behind him. He had noticed it following him for most of the drive. Nick and Peter stepped out of the vehicle and a sea of red mist descended over Gary. Had they followed him to the woodland? Had they seen him digging? Did they know what was hidden there?

Stepping out the van, he stormed over to them. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you following me?!"

Peter leant against Nick's car and took a slow drag of his cigarette. "You know why."

"I told you I had nothing to do with the factory roof or that stupid camera being stolen! So back off, the pair of you!"

"Or what?" Nick challenged. "What are you going to do? Drop a roof on our heads?"

Gary's fists clenched at his sides. His head twitched. "What did you just say?"

Peter chucked his cigarette at Gary's feet. "Come on, Nick, let's go. I think we've seen enough for one day."

Gary watched them walk away with an impending sense of panic. What had Peter meant by 'we've seen enough?' What exactly had they seen? Did they know about Rick?

The police might not be onto him, but they certainly were…

He had to get them off his back. But how?

An idea came to him and he dialled the number for Weatherfield police. "Yes, hi there. I'd like to report an assault."

* * *

Liam poked around the strange ornaments on Roy's shelves. He picked one up and studied it curiously. "What's this?"

"That's a miniature windmill."

He frowned. "Why's there a miniature windmill on the shelf?"

"I don't know, darlin'," Carla said, scratching her head. "It's not really my style either, but what can I say? Roy likes his knick-knacks."

Liam pulled a face. "Knick-knacks? I'd have Monster Munch any day of the week."

"What?" Realising what he meant, Carla laughed out loud, "Oh no, I'm not talking about the crisps, you numpty! I meant knick-knacks as in ornaments, you know, the weird stuff Roy has on his shelves."

"Oh."

Liam continued to trail the cluttered shelves, huffing and sighing as he did so.

Carla looked around the flat in desperation for something to do and spotted a small collection of board games tucked under the coffee table. She smiled brightly. "I know, how about we play a good old-fashioned board game?"

"Not in the mood."

Her hands came to her hips. "Why not mardy chops?"

He shrugged. "I'm just not."

"How about I put the telly on then?"

He shrugged again.

"Someone's a right barrel of laughs today. I know Roy's isn't exactly whacky warehouse but I'm trying here so give me something back, yeah?"

Liam walked past her and sat on the sofa where he stared glumly down at his lap.

Sensing something was wrong, she came and sat beside him. "What's up eh, Liam? You can talk to me, you know. I might not be around a whole lot, but I'm still your aunty."

"I don't want mum to get a new boyfriend."

Carla was taken aback. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. "Why not?"

"Because then I'll have a new dad. And I don't want a new dad."

Sighing heavily, she knelt before him, taking him by the hand. "Liam, look at me. No one will ever replace your dad. No one, ever. You hear me?"

"I wish he was still alive."

"Me too, darlin'. Me too."

"What was he like? Mum doesn't like to talk about him. I think it makes her sad."

Carla hadn't spoken about Liam in years. It was too painful. All the good memories had been overshadowed by the bad; the sight of a heavily pregnant Maria crying over his body in the ambulance. Him finally confessing his love, saying all the things she'd longed to hear, only for her to cruelly turn him down. She still remembered the devastated look on his face right before she'd walked away. She hadn't known then that it would be the last time she ever saw him.

He had been the first great love of her life and her way of dealing with that loss, surviving it, was by burying it deep. But now, perhaps because of the passing of time, or because she'd found love with someone else, the pain didn't hurt quite so much and she felt ready to unbury the box and talk about the man she'd so tragically loved and lost.

Sitting beside him, she wrapped an arm around him. "He was a lot like you. Handsome, cheeky, a right grumpy so and so when he wanted to be… but kind. Your dad was always kind. And he loved his family. He'd be dead proud of you, kiddo. You know what else? He'd want your mum to be happy. And deep down, you do too. You don't want her to be lonely, do you, Liam?"

The boy sat in stubborn silence, then relented quietly. "No."

"Exactly. And this dating thing with your mum, if it works out and she finds herself a new bloke, who knows? Maybe the two of you could be the best of pals! You could play video games together, go out for kickabouts in the park… all stuff your mum's rubbish at. I bet you never thought of that, eh? Have I cheered you up now?" She nudged him playfully and pointed at the smile that crept on his face. "Ah, I see you smiling, don't try and hide it…"

The flat door opened and in walked the other great love of her life. But right now she wasn't sure whether she could trust him. "You took your time," she said, standing up.

"I'm so sorry, love," Peter said, unzipping his leather jacket. "The roads were chock a block. Traffic was an absolute nightma..." He trailed off as his eyes fell upon the little boy sat on the sofa. "Oh, hey Liam, I didn't see you there, mate. What have you two been up to then? Anything exciting?"

"Just talking about my dead dad."

"Oh. That's… _nice."_

"Why don't you pick us a film from the cupboard while I have a quick word with Peter? I'll be two minutes." Carla headed over to the kitchen and Peter followed. "So how did it go with the suppliers?"

Peter massaged the back of his neck, something he only did when he was nervous, when he had something to hide. "Yeah, it went well. I've put a few orders in."

Carla felt her blood boil as she watched him blatantly lie to her face. She was conscious of little Liam in the background and didn't want to make a scene in front of him, so she kept her voice nice and calm. "Peter, I know you're ly—"

A loud, impatient knock interrupted her mid-flow.

Peter's head shot to the door. "Are you expecting someone?"

"Only Maria, but she's not due back for another couple of hours yet."

Carla answered it and was greeted by the same detective that was investigating the burglary. "Oh, hello detective, how can I help you? Have you come with an update on the investigation?"

"No news on the break-in, I'm afraid. That's not why I'm here. Is Peter Barlow in?"

Carla frowned. "Yeah, he's inside. What's this about?"

The detective barged past her and flashed her badge at a dumbstruck Peter. "Peter Barlow, I'm arresting you for the aggravated assault of Gary Windass."

"You've got to be kidding me…"

"You do not have to say anything but anything you do say may be used as evidence against you in a court of law."

Peter was made to turn around as the detective cuffed his wrists.

Carla watched helplessly. "Peter, what's going on?"

"Aunty Carla…"

Liam had started to walk towards her.

Carla immediately shot out her hand for him to stay back. "No sweetheart, stay there. Everything's fine."

"Don't worry," Peter tried to reassure her as he was escorted out of the flat. "This is all a misunderstanding. I'll be back soon."

* * *

**Author's note: So Peter's been caught out for his lies, and now he's been arrested. Where does that leave him? More importantly, where does it leave him and Carla?**

**The next chapter is the big one that wraps up this half of the story, so expect a few fireworks! I'm aiming to have it out in the next few days, so keep your eyes peeled. If you liked this chapter, or if you didn't, let me know in a review. And, as always, thanks for reading! Hope you're all still on board with it.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: As promised, here's the next instalment. I've decided to split it into two chapters because it was just too long otherwise. If you notice any spelling errors, let me know, I've not had much time to look over it. **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Chapter 10 - The Truth: Part One

The police car dropped him off outside the café and Peter was tempted to stick his fingers up at it as it sped off. Thanks to Gary, he had spent the night in a cell. It had given him flashbacks to his time inside for Tina's murder and unsurprisingly he hadn't got a wink of sleep. He looked up at the window above the cafe with a sense of dread. Carla would be there waiting for him, ready to fire off questions as soon as he walked through the door - questions he wasn't sure how to answer.

Perhaps it was time to tell her the truth about Gary? But what if she couldn't handle the truth? What if it tipped her over the edge again? She had only just started to get her life back on track, he couldn't take that away from her, not now, she'd come too far.

Arriving at the flat, he found her sat at the table, applying the finishing touches of makeup to her face. She didn't bother looking up from the compact mirror in her hand. "They kept you all night then?"

"I spent the night in a cell. My back's killing me."

"Good."

He nervously approached the table and sat across from her. He ran his sweating palms along his jeans. "Carla, I know I have a lot of explaining to do."

She snapped the mirror shut and fixed him with piercing eyes. "Too right. Because when you're not getting into cars with Nick Tilsley, you're roughing up our neighbours! What the hell is going on, Peter?"

The truth was on the tip of his tongue, begged to come out, but he was too afraid of the damage it would do. "Love, it's complicated—"

Chair legs screeched along the floor as she stood suddenly. "You know what, I haven't got time for this. I'm already late for work. Remember it, the bistro down the road? The place I seem to be running singlehandedly whilst you're off doing God knows what!"

She grabbed her handbag and jacket and headed over to the door when something made her pause and turn back. She marched back over to the table and slammed something down in front of him. "You'll be needing this back for a start." Her hand moved away, revealing the diamond engagement ring. "I asked you for one thing. Honesty. And already you're lying through your teeth."

Peter picked up the band of gold that held his heart within it, and tears sprung to his eyes. "Carla, love, please…"

But she was already out the door.

* * *

Peter had nipped into the Cabin for some smokes and on his way out he bumped into Nick in the doorway. Not in the mood to chat, Peter pushed past him and carried on down the street but Nick chased after him. "Peter, wait up!"

"Not now, Nick. Please."

Nick sidled up next to him and hurried to keep up with his quickened pace. "I heard you got arrested last night. What happened?"

"Gary reported me for assault, that's what happened."

The words stopped Nick in his tracks, but as Peter walked on, Nick ran to catch up with him. "For the bust-up in the street? You can't be serious."

"Does this look like my laughing face?" At the corner of Victoria street, Peter stopped and turned to Nick. "All this has gone too far. I know Gary's guilty and I want the little toe rag to get what's coming to him, but the fact is we've got nothing on the guy. I'm sorry, I really am, but as of today, I'm out."

Peter dipped his head in apology and continued towards the cafe.

Nick wasn't one to give up without a fight and persisted after him. "So that's it? You're giving up just like that?"

They reached the café and Peter stopped. "Nick, I spent all of last night in a cell. Then when I got home Carla broke off the engagement."

"She broke it off…" Nick blinked harshly. "Why?"

Peter motioned a hand between them. "Why do you think? Because of this! Because I've been lying about meeting suppliers when really I've been off playing detective with you!"

"Look, I know none of this has been easy. But you can't bail out now. We're so close to nailing him, I can feel it."

"He's already had me locked up. He put Roy in hospital. What's he going to do next time? Someone could get seriously hurt."

"They already did. Her name was Rana."

That was a low blow, even for Nick, and Peter turned away.

As he pushed on the cafe door, Nick caught his arm. "Alright, how about this. Let's at least drive to the woods and see what he's got buried there. You want to know what it is as much as I do. Let's drive out there this afternoon and if it turns out to be nothing, then fine, walk away. What do you say?"

* * *

It was a quiet afternoon in the bistro and Carla felt like a spare part behind the bar. She preferred it when the place was packed and she was rushed off her feet. Now each minute that passed by felt like an eternity and all she could think about was Peter.

She needed a distraction.

As if answering her silent prayer, Maria walked in and propped herself at the bar. She unwrapped her scarf and smiled. "Hiya, a small glass of merlot please."

"Coming right up."

Carla poured the glass, wishing she could pour one for herself, then set it in front of Maria. "So how was the date last night?"

"Don't ask…"

"That bad huh?"

"Things started off well," Maria began. "He took me to a fancy restaurant in town, he was good looking, nice company, made me laugh…"

"All sounds good so far."

"Then his mum showed up."

Carla threw her hand over her mouth to stop herself from bursting out laughing. "His mum?!"

"I know, right? How cringe! She sat with us for the entire meal!"

"Please tell me you ran a mile?"

"Let's just say we won't be going on a second date." She sighed and stared down at her drink. "Honestly, this dating stuff's been a nightmare from the get-go. Maybe it's time I packed it in."

"You can't talk like that! Where's your fighting spirit? A stunner like you should have them queuing round the block!"

"I don't see anybody queuing, do you?" Her shoulders sagged with defeat. "I envy you."

"Me? Why?"

"Because you've got something real with Peter. I don't think I've ever had anything real with anybody."

What was real about a relationship built on lies, Carla thought to herself.

Instead, she chose to say, "Our relationship's far from perfect, believe me."

Maria frowned at the comment. She sensed something was awry but Carla was an immensely private person and so she decided not to pry. "Anyway, thanks for taking care of Liam last night. I thought he'd be terrified of you but he really enjoyed himself."

"That's surprising considering the police bust-up he witnessed. I'm so sorry about all that by the way."

Maria waved a dismissive hand. "He's seen worse, trust me."

Maria was no doubt referring to the time she had been arrested for her sham marriage. Carla had never quite gotten the full details of that story and she didn't think now was the appropriate time to ask.

"Well, any time you need a babysitter just give me a shout."

Maria looked pleasantly taken aback. "Really? You're not just saying that to be polite?"

"No, I mean it. He's a good kid. And we are family after all." Carla shrugged. "Well, sort of anyway."

"Aww thanks, Carla. That's dead lovely of you. But I imagine you've got your hands full with this place, not to mention everything that's going on with the investigation."

"Well… there's _that."_

"Have they let Peter out yet?"

"They let him out this morning. We had words."

"That doesn't sound good. Do you want to talk about it?"

The whole point of this conversation had been to distract herself from Peter but it seemed there was no getting away from him. Usually, she'd confide in Michelle about matters of the heart but seeing as she was halfway around the world sipping cocktails on a cruise ship, she supposed Maria was the next best thing.

"It turns out Peter's been lying to me. Take yesterday or example. He told me he was meeting some suppliers in town when really he was…"

A chunky handbag slammed down on the counter. "I'll have a gin and tonic. Make it a large one."

Carla raised a bemused brow at their gate crasher. "Business not booming, Tracy?"

"I've left Mary holding the fort if you must know." Tracy expelled a heavy sigh and reached into her handbag for her purse. "Now, are you going to get me that gin and tonic or shall I take my custom elsewhere?"

Carla reluctantly carried out the request and Tracy turned her attention to the woman sat next to her. "So, Maria, how's the dating stuff going?"

Maria stared silently down at her drink, and Tracy sniggered. "You know what you should do, babe? Get yourself on Love Island. You'll find a hunk on there, no problem. Then again, you need a personality to get on that show so maybe not…"

Carla rudely slammed the drink down and stuck out her hand. "£4.20."

Tracy's jaw dropped. "How much?! Don't I get family discount?"

"We're not family."

"We soon will be."

"I wouldn't hold your breath."

Carla had uttered it under her breath yet somehow Tracy's supersonic hearing had picked it up. Now Tracy was grinning wider than the Cheshire cat. "Oh dear, trouble in paradise?"

"Maybe you should try minding your own business," said Maria.

As Carla snatched the money from Tracy's hand, Tracy's eyes rounded on her absent ring finger. She pointed at it, aghast. "There was a rock on there yesterday! Where's it gone? Oh, please don't tell me you've called it quits already? I knew it wasn't going to last but this is a new record even for you two!"

Carla tapped Maria's arm and nodded over to the booths. "Let's go take a pew, shall we?"

"Err hello? What about me? Am I not invited to join?"

"No, you're not," Carla said bluntly and Tracy gave a scoff of outrage. In the privacy of the booth, Carla ignored Tracy glaring over and lowered her voice. "As I was saying, Peter said he was meeting a supplier in town but he was spotted getting into a car with Nick."

Maria frowned. "Nick? Tilsley? I thought those two were arch enemies?"

"So did I."

"So what's he doing driving around with him?"

"I tried to ask Peter last night but then the coppers came barging in and arrested him for assaulting Gary – something else I knew nothing about."

"I heard about that actually," Maria said, sipping her wine. "Yasmeen was talking about it in the salon. Apparently, Peter was calling Gary a murder and all sorts. Imran and Johnny had to pull him away before he strangled Gary to death! Well, that's what Yasmeen said anyway, but she's always had a flair for the dramatic."

Carla raked a hand through her hair in frustration. "I don't understand it."

"What did Peter have to say for himself when you saw him this morning?"

"I asked him what was going on and he just shrugged and said it was complicated."

Maria's pretty features scrunched up. "Complicated? What does that mean?"

"God knows," Carla said, shaking her head despairingly. "But if he thinks I'm marrying him after this, he's got another thing coming. All I asked for was honesty. Is that really so hard? Well, for Peter piggin' Barlow apparently it is."

Maria placed a hand over hers. "Listen, I know you're angry but don't make any hasty decisions just yet. At least speak to him properly first, hear what he's got to say."

"And what if I don't like what he's got to say?"

Maria sighed thoughtfully. "Then I suppose you've got a decision to make."

* * *

Nick had parked a few streets away to lower the chance of them being spotted by anyone they knew. Peter walked up to the silver car and wrapped his knuckle on the window. It rolled down and he got the shock of his life when he peered inside; Nick sat in the driver's seat, and sat beside him, was Leanne.

"What's she doing here?" he demanded.

Leanne scowled. "Who's she? The cat's mother?"

Nick's face was full of apology. "I didn't have a choice. She insisted. She knows everything."

"What?!"

Leanne smiled smugly. "That's right, Peter. I thought you of all people would have learnt by now that keeping secrets gets you nowhere. Besides, I want to help."

Peter shook his head adamantly. "No way, absolutely not, no! Where we're going could be dangerous and you've got the boys to think about."

"I think I'll decide if I'm coming thanks!" She buckled her seatbelt in a show of defiance.

Peter glared at Nick who sank lower in his seat. Then, as if things couldn't possibly get any worse, Tracy's voice approached from behind him. "Well well well...if it isn't Weatherfield's most infamous love square minus one player."

Peter rolled his eyes then turned around to see her walking down the pavement, shopping bags in each hand. "So where are you three off to then?" she asked. "A hotel somewhere for a bit of swingers action?"

Peter wasn't in the mood for her games, not today. "Just keep walking eh, Trace?"

"Charming!" Of course, she didn't keep walking. She lingered like a bad smell. "I was in the bistro earlier. Your fiancé was not a happy bunny. That's if I can still call her your fiancé. I wonder what she'd make of all this..." She grinned, knowing she had the upper hand. "So I'll ask you again, where are you off to?"

Thinking fast on his feet, Peter said, "If you must know, it's Simon's parents evening and Nick's offered to give me a lift."

He was proud of himself for coming up with such a lie but his sister quickly shot him down. "That's funny because Simon's parents evening was last week. Leanne couldn't stop banging on about his maths score."

Peter had really dropped himself in it now. Tracy tapped her foot impatiently on the pavement. "Seeing as you can't be straight with me, I guess I'll go ask Carla. I'm sure she'd like in on this little venture."

She started walking away. Not knowing what else to do, Peter opened up the car door and shouted after her. "Get in."

Tracy turned around, frowning, "I beg your pardon?"

"If you want to know where we're going that badly, then hop in."

Nick shot him a 'what the hell are you doing?' look.

Peter threw out his arms in exasperation. "It's either she comes along or she blabs to Carla. So what's it going to be, Trace? Are you coming or what?"

Tracy mulled over the option of another dull night in front of the telly or a mysterious road trip.

"Hmm. Alright... you've twisted my arm!"

The siblings clambered into the backseat and Tracy rubbed her hands together excitedly as the engine started up. "Okay, enough with the suspense already. Where are we going?"

"That would be telling," Nick said darkly and the car sped away.

* * *

Carla knocked off early at the bistro and headed back to the flat. She expected to find Peter there full of apologies, but instead the place was in darkness. Roy was out having dinner at Tyrone's, she knew that, but where was Peter? Perhaps he was driving off somewhere with Nick Tilsley? Or beating another Weatherfield resident to a pulp? Or maybe he was at some bar somewhere drowning his sorrows? Or worse, in a seedy hotel room with another woman…

With Peter, the possibilities were endless.

She thought about ringing him but decided against it. He was the one with the grovelling to do, it should be him chasing after her, not the other way around.

Still, she wanted answers and without Peter around to give them she went in search of someone who could.

The builder appeared through the crack in the doorway. He eyed her suspiciously stood out on the dark street. "What do you want?"

Not the warmest of welcomes. Then again, if someone unexpectedly turned up on her doorstep at this hour she wouldn't be too happy about it either.

"I know it's late, but can I come in?"

"What for?"

"I'll explain once I'm inside. Please, it's important."

Gary opened up the doorway and she followed him upstairs to the flat. She had never set foot inside it before and it was pretty much how she expected it to be; a messy bachelor pad.

"The kettle's boiling if you want to sit down."

Carla gathered up the magazines scattered on the brown leather sofa to make space for her to sit. He sat across from her on the armchair. "So how are you? I haven't seen you since you, well, you know…"

He awkwardly cleared his throat, eyes looking away.

"Breakdown?"

The word made him shift uncomfortably.

People never knew how to address it. They were so afraid of saying the wrong thing so most ended up saying nothing at all. She was glad he'd tried.

"It's okay to say it, you know. It happened, it's part of me. But I'm on the mend now, thanks."

He didn't meet her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"What have you got to be sorry for?"

"Everything. All of it."

"Don't be daft! None of this was your fault. You tried to warn me about the roof. It was my fault I didn't listen."

He lifted his head and looked almost tearful. "Don't blame yourself."

She shrugged and smiled weakly. "My factory, my fault."

"But you didn't sabotage the roof."

"No, but I still took a risk."

She became distracted by his fingers drumming on the armrest. It was clear this line of conversation was making him nervous. Carla decided to skip the small talk and address the nature of her visit. "Gary, something's going on with Peter and I was hoping maybe you could shed some light."

"Why me?"

"Because he beat you up in the middle of the street and made no mention of it to me until he was dragged away in handcuffs."

The drumming of his fingers became more erratic.

"It's clear something's bothering you," she continued. "So whatever it is, whatever's going on, you can tell me. If Peter's threatened you or sworn to you to some kind of secrecy—"

There was a loud ping and Gary jumped up. "Kettle's boiled!"

Whilst he was making the tea, Carla's eyes wandered curiously around the flat. There on the coffee table in front of her, poking out from the magazines she'd set down, was something bright pink, and familiar.

"Hope this isn't too milky for you…"

She smiled politely as Gary set the mug of tea in front of her. She watched him retake his seat with a feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach. "There's something else that's been bothering me for a while now…" She chose her words carefully. "When I was in the hospital I remember you standing over my bedside, rummaging through my bag and taking Sarah's phone. That didn't happen, right?"

He nearly choked on his tea. He coughed, patting his chest. Then he laughed, "No."

She laughed too. "It sounds so bizarre when I say it out loud. I mean, who imagines something like that? Unless it really happened…" She dropped all pretence of a smile. "Why's Sarah's phone in your flat, Gary?"

He went silent and she retrieved it from the coffee table, holding it up. "This is the phone I dreamt you took from my bag. Now it turns up in your flat. Quite the coincidence don't you think?"

Her tone was harsh, accusatory and there was a painful stretch of silence before he threw his hands up. "Alright, okay, yes, I went to the hospital and I took the phone, alright? But only because I saw you had it in the ginnel and I knew how much Sarah wanted it back."

"So why lie? Why make out you were never at the hospital?"

"I don't know…"

"Why all this effort for a phone you've not even given back to her?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"Because I want the truth!"

"The truth of what?"

"Of why people keep lying to me! Why Peter beat you up in the street!"

He stood abruptly. "Sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She remained seated and folded her arms. "Tough. I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers."

"Carla." His hissed her name with impatience.

"No, I'm sick of all the secrets and lies! It's part of why I lost my mind in the first place! Gary, if you know something, you have to tell me. Why did Peter attack you? Why—"

"Because it was me! It was all me!"

Carla had never heard him raise his voice before, not like that, and it frightened her. "What are you talking about? What was you?"

"I'm the one who sabotaged the roof. I'm the reason Rana's dead. _Me."_

* * *

It was dark outside and all Peter could see from his window were fields. Not that he was paying much attention to the view of course. All he could think about was Carla. He should be at home, apologising, trying to patch things up. Whatever was out in the woods had better be worth it...

Tracy huffed miserably beside him. "Will somebody please tell me where we're going? We've been driving for ages! I haven't seen a house for miles!"

"No one forced you to come along," Nick said, the irritation clear in his voice.

Tracy kicked the seat in front of her in frustration. "You might as well tell me because I'm going to keep going on and on and on and on—"

"For God's sake!" Leanne cried, finally at her wits end with the endless questions. "Let's just tell her already. She's going to find out soon enough." She swivelled around and faced into the back fo the car. "Gary's the one who sabotaged the factory roof."

Tracy gave a humourless laugh. "Haha very funny, next joke."

"It's not a joke."

Not knowing whether to believe her, Tracy turned to her brother. "Peter, is what she said true? Gary sabotaged the roof? Gary Windass?"

Peter dragged his gaze from the window. "No, Gary linker," he snapped sarcastically. "Yes, Gary Windass! How many other Gary's do you know?"

Tracy had expected the roof saboteur to be someone with cunning and intelligence, someone like Nick, or Carla. Not someone whose name sounded like they had indigestion problems. The thought of Gary being the villain was immensely underwhelming, almost laughable.

She raised a sceptical brow. "And how do you know it was him?"

Peter ground his teeth. He loved his sister, but God she was annoying. "What is this, twenty questions? I just know, alright!"

Tracy scoffed. "Oh, because that would really hold up in court! And why is the defendant guilty your honour?" She mimicked her brother's gruff voice. "Err dunno, he just is alright! You need proof, Peter."

"And proof's what we're going to find," said Nick. "Gary's got something buried out in the woods and we're going to find out what it is."

Tracy craned her neck towards the front of the car in an exaggerated fashion. "I'm sorry, did I hear that right? We're going out into the woods, at night, to dig up something Gary's got buried there?

Suddenly this road trip didn't sound so fun…

She folded her arms and stamped her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Right! That's it! Turn the car around, take me home!"

Nick pulled down a long winding road where the dark outline of forest loomed in the distance. "Too late now. We're here."

* * *

Carla sat rigid on the sofa and watched as Gary rocked in the armchair, a haunted look in his wide, unblinking eyes.

"Why…" The words jammed in the back of her throat and she had to force them out. "Why did you do it?"

"I don't know… I was in debt, a lot of debt. I had loan sharks on my back, making threats about what they'd do to Sarah and the kids if I didn't pay up. I needed work. So I told you the roof needed replacing…."

She swallowed. "But it didn't, right?"

He closed his eyes and a tear rolled down his cheek. "No, it didn't. The damage from the fire was only superficial. But I needed the money so I told you the whole thing needed replacing. When you refused to play ball, I panicked. So I took matters into my own hands…"

Carla couldn't believe what she was hearing. She felt sick to her stomach. "All this time I've been hating myself, thinking I was responsible…"

"I know. I can't tell you how awful I feel about what I did to Rana, to you, your family – but I'm not a bad person, Carla. I'm not Phelan. I just got desperate. And sometimes desperate people do desperate things."

"Peter worked it out, didn't he? That you were behind the roof? That's why he attacked you."

He nodded. "Peter and Nick have been onto me for weeks. They made out there were pictures of me on the roof. Said that if I didn't turn myself in they'd show them to the police…" He lowered his head. "That's why I hired someone to break into Roy's flat and take the camera."

Anger surged up inside her at his shocking admission. "That was you? You put Roy in hospital?!"

"I'm not proud of it. But like I said, desperate people…"

"I don't get it," she said after a moment or two. "Why tell me now? You've kept your mouth shut for this long, so why blow it all now?"

"Because I can't keep watching you punish yourself. You deserve to know you aren't to blame."

It was a little late in the day to suddenly grow a conscience, she thought.

She shook her head. "I can't listen to any more of this..."

Gary's eyes widened in alarm as she took out her phone. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm calling the police."

"What? No! You can't!"

"What did you _think_ was going to happen?"

He sprung out of the armchair. "They'll lock me up and throw away the key! Carla, please, I've got my boys to think about!"

"Then you should have thought of that before."

"Do you want me to beg?" He dropped to his knees in front of her and clasped his hands together. "I know what I did was despicable but it was a mistake. A stupid, terrible mistake."

Carla felt no sympathy towards him, only disgust. All the crocodile tears in the world couldn't save him now.

"Sorry, Gary, but it's over."

She dialled the number.

"No!" Snatching the phone out of her hand, he threw it against the wall with all his strength and it smashed. "No one is calling the police! No one!"

He had an almost feral look about him, and Carla tensed, realising the danger she was in. There was no way he could let her go, not now, she knew too much. If she wanted to get out of here, she would have to act quickly. She shot a fleeting look towards the door then propelled herself off the sofa and bolted. She managed to make it out of the door and was about to descend the stairs when a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, spinning her around.

"Let go of me!"

"Not until you swear to me you won't tell the police!"

"I said, let go!" Sharp nails clawed at his face and he cried out, letting her go to cradle his bleeding face. But the instant he let go, Carla stepped backwards, only there was nothing to step onto. It all happened so suddenly that she hadn't a chance to scream.

Gary stood frozen at the top of the staircase and peered down at her body lying motionless below.

"Carla?" he called out in a frightened whisper. "Carla," he tried again, louder this time. "Say something, talk to me, let me know you're alright… Carla?"

He begged for a whimper, a groan, anything.

Slowly, he began to descend the narrow staircase, arms gripping the handrail for fear his knees would buckle, and crouched beside her. She lay on her side and waves of dark hair hid her face. He brushed it aside only to pull back sharply when he felt something warm and sticky beneath his fingers.

His heart was beating worryingly fast as he shook her. "Carla? Carla, wake up!"

Grabbing her wrist, he shut his eyes and concentrated on finding a pulse. "Please God, please God…"

But the steady throb he longed to feel wasn't there.

It was then, in the silence of the darkened landing, her wrist limp in his hand, that he realised what he had done.

* * *

Tracy peered nervously out the window towards the edge of the forest. "You seriously want to go traipsing off in there? I'll stay in the car, thank you very much."

"Good idea," Peter said, unbuckling his belt. "You wait here all by yourself. I'd lock the doors if I were you. I don't know how long we'll be and there could be all sorts out there."

The others left the car and Tracy remained sat in stubborn silence. Her eyes gravitated towards the eerie forest and she gave an involuntary shudder. Then whipping off her belt, she hurried out the car to join them. "On second thoughts, I think I'll tag along. You know, safety in numbers and all that."

Nick retrieved the shovels and flashlight from the boot and the four of them set off into the woodland. The men led the way with the flashlight and the women followed closely behind.

Tracy found forest's scary places anyway, but in the dark, they came alive. Branches morphed into spindly arms reaching out to grab her, and every noise, no matter how innocuous, made her jump.

She stopped suddenly and grabbed onto Leanne's arm. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Ahead of them, the men stopped walking and Nick scanned the surrounding foliage with his flashlight. "It was nothing, probably just a fox."

"A fox?" Tracy's voice rose an octave. "There are foxes out here?"

"There's all sorts out here," Leanne said. "Foxes, badgers, deer…boars."

"Boars?! You're pulling my leg… right? Leanne?"

"Welcome to the great outdoors," Peter muttered.

Tracy swatted at a low hanging branch that tickled the back of her head. "I hate the outdoors. That's why I live in Weatherfield!"

As they ventured deeper into the forest, thunder growled overhead as rain started to pour from the canopy. An icy droplet landed in Tracy's eye and she flinched. "Oh Great! Just when I thought this night couldn't possibly get any worse…"

"Well, it's a good job we're here then, isn't it?" said Peter.

They had stumbled upon a small clearing with a rundown shed in the middle of it. Nick and Peter walked on ahead whilst the woman remained under the shelter of trees, not wanting to be drenched by the merciless downpour.

The men scoured the ground with the flashlight and came across a mound of earth resembling that of a freshly dug grave. Peter beckoned the women over and the four of them stood around it. "The ground's been disturbed here," Peter said, kicking at the soil, which easily crumbled away. "This must be the spot."

Nick set his flashlight down and dispersed the shovels amongst them. "Right gang, let's get digging."

* * *

Gary acted on adrenaline. He wrapped Carla up in a bedsheet and carried her over his shoulder to the van parked outside the flat. He laid her down in the back of the van and her face peeked out from the pale sheet.

He went to cover it up when a voice startled him from behind.

"Hello stranger."

Gary spun around, clutching his chest. "What are you doing here?" Bethany's face fell and he realised he'd spoken too harshly. "Sorry, I only meant it's a little late to be walking the streets on your own isn't it?"

"I had a late shift at the bistro," she explained, her smile returning. "I knocked off early. Shh. Don't tell Carla, she'll have my guts for garters."

At the mention of Carla, Gary felt his stomach tighten.

"My lips are sealed," he said.

He hoped the teenager would be on her way but she peered nosily into the van. "What you doooiiiing?"

He quickly shut the van doors before she could get a proper look inside. "Oh, you know, just loading the van with some supplies."

She frowned. "Have you got a job lined up then?"

"I have as it happens. A renovation job in town. I'm on my way over there now to drop off some gear."

His hands trembled at his sides and he stuffed them in his pockets. His heart was hammering so loudly in his chest he wondered if she could hear it.

"Listen, Bethany, I'd obviously love to stay and chat but I've got to get on the road and you better get home to your mum. She'll be getting worried."

She nodded. "We'll catch up some other time then?" She went to walk away then paused. "For what it's worth, I think mum was an idiot for dumping you. You're a decent bloke. In my experience, they're hard to come by."

You wouldn't be saying that if you saw what I've got in my van, he thought to himself.

Gary spied Bethany from the wing mirror and watched her turn the corner of the street. Then he collapsed against the steering wheel and let out a shaky breath.

That had been close, too close.

He closed his eyes and the moment Carla tumbled down the stairs played over and over in his mind. He hadn't meant for her to die, he had only wanted to stop her from going to the police. He hadn't pushed her, she had fallen, the whole thing had been an accident, a heated argument that got out of hand…

Oh God, poor Kate! He had taken away another person she loved. And what about Peter? What would Peter do when he found out? He would kill him with his bare hands...

But Peter would never find out. Neither would Kate. No one would.

He could cover this up just like he had done with Rick. He could make all this go away. He just had to stay calm.

Starting up the rickety engine, he sped off to the place where he buried all his mistakes.

* * *

**Author's note: So the old gang's back together, Leanne, Nick, Tracy and Peter out on an adventure! That should end well, right? And poor Carla... Gary keeps digging himself deeper, literally. What's going happen next? **

**That was part one, part two will be up shortly. If you enjoyed please let me know in a review, it's my only gauge on whether people are still enjoying this. And of course, thanks to all those who review each chapter, it doesn't go unnoticed, so thanks!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – The Truth Part 2

The downpour had turned the ground to sludge, which made light work of digging. Still, they'd been at it almost an hour and Tracy was beyond exhausted. Dropping her shovel to the ground she climbed out of the ditch and fell to her knees, roping in shallow breaths. She watched Leanne pace about in the distance, holding her phone to the sky in a futile search for a signal. "Any luck?"

"Nothing yet!" Leanne called back to her.

The ditch was at least four foot deep and so far they had uncovered nothing. Tracy was beginning to wonder if there was even anything to find. It was time they called it a night and headed back to the car.

All of a sudden there was a breakthrough as Peter's voice called out to them from the ditch. The women gathered around it and peered down at Peter who had gotten onto his hands and knees and was clawing at the mud whilst Nick stood over him with the flashlight.

Then Peter gasped, stumbling backwards onto his butt. Nick dropped the flashlight and the women screamed, grabbing each other as they backed away from the hole.

"Was that…" Leanne couldn't get her words out. "Was that a… a…"

"A body?" Tracy gulped. "Yeah, pretty sure it was."

The pale face with unblinking eyes, drained of all colour, stared up at them from the mud. Despite its decomposed state, the face was still recognisable, just. Peter looked grimly at Nick who was trembling behind his flashlight. "Looks like we've found Rick."

"Who the hell's Rick?" cried Leanne.

"The loan shark hounding Gary for cash. It looks like Sharon was right after all." All while Nick spoke his eyes never once left the corpse.

"Right! That's it!" Tracy announced over the incessant rainfall. "I'm going back to the car!"

"I second that," said Leanne, who followed after her.

The women were stopped dead in their tracks by a flashlight bobbing towards them through the trees. They raced back over to the ditch and Leanne called down into it, "Quick! Someone's coming!"

The men ditched the shovels and flashlight and scrambled out of the ditch. The four of them took cover behind a fallen tree and watched as the bobbing light drew nearer.

Gary became illuminated by the moonlight as he stepped out into the clearing. He carried something on his back; something large, heavy, and wrapped in a pale sheet.

The four of them exchanged nervous looks.

"Wonder who he's come to dump this time?" Tracy remarked before being nudged into silence by Peter.

Gary set the body on the ground and disappeared into the tumbledown shed. He emerged moments later with a shovel and began scouring the ground with his flashlight in search of his next burial plot.

It wasn't long before he came across the ditch.

Gary peered down at the shovels and flashlight that had been carelessly abandoned and gasped at the pale face staring back at him from the mud. He backed away from the ditch, horrified, then began frantically searching over the surrounding forest with his flashlight. "Who's there?" he cried. "Whoever you are you better come on out!"

The four of them ducked as the light passed over their heads.

They continued to watch with bated breath as Gary reached behind his back and pulled out a gun. He held it up in the air like a trophy. "You see this? It's real and it's loaded and I'm not afraid to use it. So come on out!"

Leanne's grip on Nick's hand tightened. Tracy turned to her brother in panic. "What do we do?"

But Peter wasn't listening. His attention was on the pale sheet behind Gary that had begun to stir to life. It rose from the ground like a ghost. Then the sheet fell away, revealing a woman. It was too dark and she stood too far away to make out any distinguishing features other than her vague outline. She was ungainly at first then she started staggering towards the trees.

The tree line was mere feet away when she tripped and fell.

Gary spun around, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, and the woman shielded her eyes from the blinding light.

It was now that Peter realised who she was and his heart caught in his chest. He jumped up, about to run after her, but Tracy yanked on his shirt, pulling him back down. "Don't you even dare," she hissed.

Carla scrambled to her feet and she and Gary stared at one another. An outcry of relief broke the mounting tension. "Oh, thank God… You're alive!" Gary tucked his weapon into the waistband of his jeans. "I know you're scared, but it's alright, I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to explain…" As he began to edge closer, Carla bolted. "Carla, wait, stop! Come back!"

He started to chase after her. That's when Peter sprung up and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hey! Gary! Over here!"

Gary stopped in his pursuit of Carla who vanished into the trees and turned on his heel. His flashlight fell upon Peter. Gary squinted at him through the pouring rain. _"You."_

Peter had acted entirely on instinct. Carla was in danger and his automatic response was to try and protect her. But in the process, he had landed himself and everyone else in grave danger. He watched as Gary reach behind his back. Peter gave a cry, "Everybody run!"

* * *

The moment Peter gave the order Nick pulled Leanne to her feet and the pair darted into the trees. Tracy was fast on her feet behind them but in her haste to keep up, she tripped and fell. Not missing a beat, she dragged herself up, except now there was no one ahead of her. She stopped still, her head darting from side to side. "Leanne? Nick?"

They had been in front of her moments ago, and now nothing?

She whispered their names a little louder. "Nick? Leanne? … Anybody?!"

All that answered her was the creaking of branches and the pattering of rain.

Alone and afraid, she took cover behind a tree. She pressed her back against the thick trunk and reached for her phone. Trembling fingers began scrolling through her contact list until Steve's goofy face smiled at her through the darkness.

Tracy made a silent prayer as she dialled the call.

It to cut off immediately and the no signal sign flashed on her screen. "Oh, come on!"

She tried again and again to no avail. "Shit!"

Shoving the useless device into her pocket, Tracy closed her eyes and imagined being sat at home; Steve snoring next to her on the couch, Amy's music blasting from her bedroom, the fumes of Liz's nail polish wafting up her nose. Oh, how she wished for another boring night in front of the telly.

But curiosity had gotten the better of her like it always did. And now here she was, about to die in the middle of nowhere.

Get a grip, her inner voice berated her. You've got a daughter that needs you, an idiot of a husband who'll be useless without you, a business you're proud of – you can't give up! No way are you dying tonight. Certainly not at the hands of Gary Windass! Imagine what folk will say? Tracy Barlow, grade A bitch, taken down by Gary Windyarse? You'll be a laughingstock! Pull yourself together, woman!

Tracy knew her bet was to head back to the car. Granted, she didn't know what she'd do once she got there, it wasn't like she had the keys to drive away, but with any luck, the others would be headed there too.

She took a deep breath and began to count herself down. "3…2…"

BANG!

Tracy flinched, her back digging into the trunk of the tree. Who had been on the receiving end of that bullet, she wondered. Nick? Leanne? Carla? Her brother?

She had to get to the car, she had to!

She weaved in and out of the trees at a frantic pace, the darkness disorientating, the ground slippery, but she had only one goal in mind: the car.

A figure stepped out in front of her and Tracy hadn't time to stop. They collided like two speeding cars and fell backwards into the mud.

As Tracy struggled to her feet, she looked over at the person scrambling about in the mud. She blinked heavily. "Carla?... Is that you?"

Tracy reached into her back pocket for her phone and shone it. The businesswoman stopped struggling and shielded her eyes from the blinding light. Carla looked bedraggled; wet hair clung to her face, she had a gash on her forehead, her tights were snagged, and she wasn't wearing any shoes.

Tracy wasn't Carla's biggest fan but right now she felt like hugging her. It was a relief to have found someone, anyone. Tracy put her phone away and crawled over to her. She helped Carla sit up and Carla winced, clutching her head in pain. "Tracy… what the hell's going on?"

Tracy let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "You tell me. One minute I'm agreeing to join Leanne, Nick and Peter on a road trip and the next minute we're digging up bodies in the middle of the woods and being hunted by a deranged builder with a gun!"

Carla stared at her. "Wait...Peter's here?"

Of course, that was all she had taken from that.

"He is, but I have no idea where he is now. We got split up a while back. I'm trying to find my way back to the car. With any luck that's where the others'll be headed."

Carla sucked in a sharp breath. Tracy narrowed her eyes at the cut on her forehead. "You look terrible. What happened to you?"

Carla massaged her temples as she told the story. "Gary confessed everything. I threatened to call the police. We argued. And I must've lost my footing or something because the last thing I remember is falling down the stairs."

"You lost your footing? He pushed you more like."

"I don't think he did…" Carla frowned as she tried to make sense of the jumbled pieces in her mind. "I must've hit my head pretty hard because when I woke up, I was lying under a blanket in the middle of the woods."

"He was about to bury you alive!"

There was a rustling of leaves and Tracy snapped alert. She eased up, realising it was only the wind. Still, it was safer if they kept moving. She stood up, brushed the dirt off her jeans, and offered a hand down to Carla. "Are you okay to walk?"

"I think so. Just one sec…" Carla removed a twig that had embedded itself in the sole of her foot.

Tracy grimaced, feeling Carla's pain as she watched her pull it out. "Where are your shoes?"

"I ditched them a while back. You can't run in heels. Girl guides 101, that." It was surprising that Carla still managed to retain a sense of humour. Then again, humour was Tracy's coping mechanism too.

Tracy hauled her to her feet. "Come on. Let's go."

Thunder bellowed as they ventured silently through the forest, using the torch on Tracy's phone to guide them in what they hoped was the direction of the car, although they couldn't be sure.

They were an unlikely pairing to say the least. It brought back memories of the minibus crash when they'd been forced to work together to survive.

Carla's head injury made her dizzy so she had to lean on Tracy for support. Really they were supporting each other as Carla noticed Tracy was walking with a limp. "What's wrong with you?"

"It's my ankle. I landed on it funny when you ran into me."

As they continued onwards, Carla's mind drifted to worried thoughts of Peter. What if he was hurt? She'd never forgive herself if anything happened to him. Especially not after the way they'd left things. She prayed he would be waiting for her at the car.

There was a snap, like the breaking of a branch, and Carla paused mid-step. Her eyes scurried about the darkness. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Then Tracy heard it too; the distinct sound of branches breaking underfoot.

Carla pulled Tracy down behind a cluster of ferns and hissed at her to switch off her torch. They huddled together, shivering and silent. Then a chilling voice called out to them from the darkness. "I know you're out here, ladies. I saw the light from your phone, Tracy. So come on out. I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk. Isn't it time this cat and mouse game ended?"

A flashlight approached from the distance and Tracy panicked. "What do we do?"

Carla gripped her hand tightly. "We stay here."

"Are you mad? He'll find us!"

"Not if we stay quiet." Carla sensed Tracy looking around for an escape and squeezed her hand. "Tracy, we are going to be okay. You just have to trust me."

But as the light drew dangerously close, Tracy lost her nerve. "Sorry, but I don't!" She wrenched her hand from Carla's and took off running without a backward glance.

Within seconds, Carla was thrust into the spotlight of Gary's flashlight. She fled as gunfire rang out behind her. A bullet whizzed past her head and she screamed, ducking out of the way. She kept running, not in any specific direction, just away from immediate danger.

She eventually came to a standstill, forced to catch her breath against a tree. She took in her surroundings and realised she was back at the clearing. Beneath her feet was the bedsheet she had been wrapped up in.

Somewhere nearby she heard whispering voices.

"Don't touch it."

"But it hurts."

"I know it does, but you're going to be okay."

Carla blindly followed the voices and stumbled upon Nick. He was slumped against a tree, his face contorted in pain, and Leanne was knelt beside him, pressing her balled-up cardigan to his shoulder.

A twig snapped underfoot, giving away Carla's position, and Leanne nearly screamed as she whipped her head around. Carla raised her hands in mock surrender. "It's alright, it's only me!"

Leanne let out a visible sigh of relief and Carla joined her on the ground. She looked at Nick whose eyes were squeezed shut. He sucked in air through gritted teeth before letting out a deep, guttural moan.

"What's wrong with him?" Carla asked.

"He's been shot," Leanne said in a clinical, matter of fact way. "The bullet caught his shoulder when we were running away."

Fear snared Carla's heart. "Shot? But he's going to be alright though, isn't he?... Leanne?"

"I've managed to stem the bleeding but he needs a doctor." Leanne dragged her eyes from Nick to look at Carla and was immediately drawn to the gaping cut on her forehead. "What about you? Are you alright?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just a scratch." Her injuries didn't compare to a gunshot wound. "Leanne, have you seen Peter?"

"Not since we all got split up." Carla's heart sank, then Leanne added with a sense of foreboding, "Last I saw of him he was running after you."

Carla could see her own fears reflected back in Leanne's eyes. Leanne was just as worried about Peter as she was. In a way Leanne still loved Peter. Not in the romantic sense, but as Simon's parents they shared a bond Carla could never quite understand but overtime had learned to accept.

Leanne nodded to the surrounding foliage. "Tracy's out here somewhere, too."

"I know. I was with her earlier. We had a close encounter with Gary and she ditched me."

Leanne laughed bitterly. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

A pained gasp snapped their attention back to Nick who was convulsing as another gush of pain coursed through him. Leanne tried her best to soothe him, running her hand along the side of his face. "It's alright, you're going to be alright."

The pain subsided and Leanne placed Nick's hand over the balled-up cardigan. "Nick, keep that pressed down for me, okay?" Then, taking Carla by the arm, she led her out of Nick's earshot. "Listen, Nick's got the keys for the car. If we can get him there we can drive to the hospital."

"But what about Peter and Tracy? We can't just leave them!"

Leanne spoke with a desperate urgency. "Carla, Nick's bleeding out. If we don't get him to a hospital, he's going to die. You have to help me…" Her voice cracked. "Please."

Carla was torn. She wanted to stay and look for Peter. What if he was hurt? Needed her help? But Nick was bleeding to death right in front of her and Leanne would never make it to the car with him without her help.

"Alright," she relented. "Help me get him up."

They covered a good distance before stopping to take a short break. They propped Nick against a tree and Carla sat with him whilst Leanne went off in search of a signal. Nick's breathing had become shallow and strained and the fight to keep his eyes open was getting harder with each passing second. "Not quite the night you had planned huh?"

Carla laughed despite the fraught situation. "You can say that again."

Nick laughed too, but it was cut off by a jolt of pain. "It's okay," Carla soothed affectionately. "You're going to be okay."

"You're a doctor now, are you?"

"I'm a woman of many talents, me."

He went to speak but his words faded off into nothing and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Carla lightly patted his cheek. "Nick? Hey! Don't you go dying on me… Leanne!"

Leanne, who had become distracted in her search for a signal, was by his side in an instant. She shook him furiously. "Nick, open your eyes! Talk to me, please!"

His eyes cracked open and he smiled lazily up at her. "I love you…"

She smiled through her tears. "I love you too. I'm going to get you out of here but you need to keep your eyes open, okay?"

He managed a weak nod and the women lifted him back onto his feet, each taking an arm over their shoulders. "The car isn't far now," said Leanne.

For Carla, seeing the silver car ahead of them was like a marathon runner getting a glimpse of the finish line. However, her elation was quickly followed by a sinking feeling as she realised Peter was not there to meet her.

"Keys… in my… back pocket…" Nick wheezed.

Leanne reached for them and the headlights blinked as the car unlocked.

They struggled over to it and strapped Nick in the backseat. "I don't want you driving with your head injury," Leanne said to Carla. "You sit with Nick and I'll ride shotgun."

But Carla refused to get inside. "I can't," she said, shaking her head. Her eyes lingered on the forest. "Peter's still out there. I have to stay and look for him."

Leanne grabbed her by the shoulders. "Carla, that forest goes on for miles. You'll never find him on your own. Come with us to the hospital and we'll bring help to Peter. That's the best we can do for him." In desperation, she added, "He would want you to come with us. He'd want to keep you safe."

As much as Carla wanted to stay, she couldn't argue with Leanne's logic. The best thing was to drive to a place of safety and call for help. She climbed into the backseat and wrapped an arm around Nick whose weak head fell upon her shoulder.

Leanne started up the engine and the headlights beamed on as the windscreen wipers squeaked into motion. Leanne gave a relieved cry and smiled into the backseat. "Okay! Here we go! We're getting out of here!"

However, Carla was staring at something straight ahead. Leanne faced back towards the windscreen and there was Gary, in the beam of the headlights, his gun raised and pointed right at her.

"The game's up," he said. "Get out of the car."

For those first few seconds, no one moved. They remained in the vehicle and listened to the rhythmic squeak of the wipers and the steady hum of the engine. How tempting it was to just drive away...

"Don't make me start shooting."

Leanne cast a wary glance in the backseat where Carla mirrored her look of defeat.

They had no choice but to comply.

They helped Nick out of the car and stood in the path of the headlights. Nick could barely stand by this point and the women were hunched under his weight.

"Keys, now."

At Leanne's refusal to hand them over, Gary turned the gun on her. "Keys or I pull the trigger. I'm not bluffing."

Leanne held onto them. "You don't have to do this. Just let us go."

"Shut up!" The barrel of the gun now pointed at Nick. "Hand them over or I blow his head clean off."

"Do as he says," Carla warned.

The keys jangled as Leanne tossed them over. Despite having given up the keys, she refused to give up hope. "If you let us go, we won't say a word to the police, I promise. All I want is to get Nick to a hospital. Please, Gary. If we go now we can still save him."

"And what will you say when the doctors ask how a bullet wound up in his shoulder?" At Leanne's silence, he said, "See? There's no way out of this."

She started to sob. "Please, my boys… they need me. Please let me go home to them. _Please."_

"I can't."

"So what are you going to do?" Carla piped up, trying to appear strong despite being terrified. "Stick more bodies in the ground? More cover-ups? More guilt on your conscience?"

The gun teetered in Gary's trembling grip. "You think I wanted this? Any of this? What happened to Rana was an accident! No one was supposed to be there! And Rick? I never wanted to kill him but if I hadn't he would've killed me…"

The gun began to lower and for a moment it looked like Gary was backing down. Suddenly, it shot back up as his temper flared. "Things would've been fine if you hadn't kept following me, asking questions…" The gun was now firmly pointed at Carla. "Why couldn't you have left things alone?"

Carla swallowed. "Gary… whatever you're thinking of doing, please don't."

"I'm sorry," he said. "But you've left me no choice…"

The moment his finger reached for the trigger happened in slow motion and Carla squeezed her eyes shut. She buried her face into Nick's chest and waited for the gun to go off, for the rush of pain that would follow.

Instead of a fateful blast, there as a loud thwack, followed by a groan, then a heavy thud.

Cracking one eye open, Carla saw Gary lying face-down in the mud. Standing over him with a branch raised over his shoulder like a cricket bat, was Peter. Tracy appeared behind him and patted his back. "Nice one, Rambo. He's out cold."

Carla had never been so grateful to see him in all her life. Once again, her knight in black leather had come to her rescue. She nearly toppled him over as she pounced on him. The argument from that morning was long forgotten about as she showered him with kisses. He held onto her just as tightly, then pulled back suddenly, and cupped her face. His thumb ran over the gash on her forehead and she winced. His brow furrowed with concern. "You're hurt…"

She pulled him back towards her, never wanting to let go. "I'm fine now you're here."

The car horn beeped and they sprang apart. Leanne stuck her head out of the window. "You can catch up later! Nick's dying here!"

Peter took Carla's hand and was about to go over to the car when something made Carla stop and she nodded at the ground. "What about him? Are we just going to leave him?"

"No, I thought we'd tie him up with the length of rope Nick keeps in his boot or the handcuffs he keeps in the glover," Tracy snapped sarcastically. "Or better yet, let's wait for him to wake up! He tried to kill us! Yes, we're leaving him behind!"

They piled into the car and it sped away down the winding dirt road, never to return.

* * *

**Author's note: Hope that was dramatic enough! Carla's alive, Tracy was well, Tracy, and good old Peter saved the day! But will Nick be okay? Is the engagement back on? And have we seen the last of Gary? If you enjoyed, please leave a review, it doesn't have to be long, just a few words, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks for reading. **


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - The Aftermath

Carla banged on the pub doors a third time and a bellowing voice called out, "We're closed! Can't you read the sign?"

"Jenny, it's Carla. Can you let me in?"

She heard the unscrewing of bolts and the turn of a key and the doors opened wide, revealing Jenny in a fluffy pink dressing gown and matching slippers, her hair in rollers, and not a scrap of makeup on her face. She looked Carla up and down slowly, lingering on the stitching on her forehead. Carla dreaded to think what she looked like with her wind-swept hair and mud-covered clothes. Luckily an officer had brought her some trainers on the way to the police station to save her walking around barefoot. Without a word, Jenny sprung from the doorway and threw her arms around her. Pain rushed to Carla's ribs, making her gasp, and Jenny pulled back suddenly. "I'm sorry, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"It's fine," Carla said, grimacing. "My ribs are a little sore, that's all."

"Oh, you poor thing. You've really been through the wars, haven't you?" Jenny ushered her in off the deserted street. "Come on in, your dad and sister are through the back."

In the living room, Johnny sat with his arm around Kate. They were both in their pyjamas, having risen early from their beds, and their eyes were glued to the television where a newsfeed panned over a woodland area with the caption 'Manhunt after body found in woods' running beneath it. Johnny spotted Carla in the doorway and nudged Kate. Kate was on her feet in an instant, pulling Carla into a tearful hug. "I've been worried sick!"

The gesture was unexpected and Carla ignored the shooting pain in her ribs, not wanting to spoil the moment. Kate broke away only for Carla to be swept up in yet another embrace, this time her father's. "Oh darlin', you look terrible. Have you been at the hospital all night?"

"No, the police station actually." She stepped back from the hug, the discomfort too much. "They wanted to take our accounts of what happened whilst it was still fresh in our minds. An officer dropped us off just now. Peter's gone for a lie-down. I wanted to swing by here first, make sure you're all alright."

"We're fine," Johnny insisted. "It's you who's had the night from hell! That lunatic could've killed you!"

"Well, he didn't." She didn't want all the fuss and attention, that's not why she was here. She had come to make sure her sister was okay now the truth was out.

Carla pulled up a chair at the table and Johnny waved the remote at the tv playing quietly in the background. "Have you seen this? It's been playing all morning."

"I've been trying to ignore it if I'm honest," she said.

"Oh, sorry. Would you like me to turn it off?"

"No, it's fine. Let it play."

Jenny, who had disappeared into the kitchen, came back with a tray of tea and set it down on the table. She took a seat and passed a mug to Carla before nodding at the telly. "He'll not get far, believe me. With hair his colour it's not like he can hide in plain sight, is it? Mark my words, the police will find him before the day's out."

"I hope they don't," Kate said, much to the shock of everyone around her. "That way I can kill him myself."

Her dark tone unsettled Johnny. "Darlin', you don't mean that."

"I do, dad. Playing video games in a cushy cell is too good for him. He deserves to suffer just like poor Rana had to suffer."

"I still can't believe it was him," Jenny said after a brief silence. "I mean, I served that lad every day and never had an inkling. He just doesn't seem like the sort of person that would…"

She trailed off and sipped at her tea.

"Would what?" Kate said, wanting her to finish. "Would drop a roof on people's heads? Would kill a bloke and bury him in the woods?"

"Well…no."

"He was good at hiding it, I'll give him that," Johnny said.

The screen cut to a white police tent in a forest clearing. A uniformed officer stood outside of it, keeping guard. Jenny shuddered. "To think he dragged a body out there and buried it…" Clasping a hand to her mouth she turned to Carla, "Oh, please don't tell me you saw the body?"

"I didn't, thankfully. But the others did. They were the ones who dug it up."

"A thing like that will traumatise them for life," Jenny said with a pitiful shake of her head. "How's poor Nick?"

"He's out of the woods, no pun intended. Leanne texted to say the surgery went well and he's in recovery."

"Thank God for that," said Johnny.

"And how's your Peter doing?"

Arriving at the hospital had been total chaos. Nick had been wheeled away by a team of surgeons in one direction with a distraught Leanne following behind, and Carla had been pulled in another direction by a nurse who insisted she get her head injury checked out. Tracy and Peter had gotten lost amongst the crowd. A few stitches later and Carla was bundled into the back of a police car and driven to the station where she gave a lengthy, detailed account of the night's events. She was reunited with Peter on the drive home, but by then they were too exhausted to speak.

"We've not had a chance to talk," Carla admitted. "Once we've rested up, I'll talk to him...clear things up."

Jenny and Johnny looked confused. "Clear what up?" asked Jenny, sensing something untoward in her tone.

Carla sighed. "Before the showdown in the woods, we argued. He kept going off all the time, lying about what he was doing. I confronted him, we argued… and I broke off the engagement."

Jenny nearly spat out her tea. "You did what? Surely you can see he only kept what he was doing a secret to protect you?"

"Exactly," Johnny said, agreeing with his wife for once. "He wanted solid proof before involving you and Kate."

His words gave them all pause. Jenny turned her head slowly and glared at him. "Wait a minute… did you know what Peter was up to? Did you know about Gary?"

Under the heat of her gaze, Johnny shrugged sheepishly. "He might've mentioned he had a hunch…"

Jenny rose out of her seat, nostrils flaring. "And you didn't think to tell me?!"

"I wanted to, love. But he swore me to secrecy."

"You never keep secrets from your partner, Johnathan! Ever!"

"My thoughts exactly," agreed Carla. She yawned and could feel her eyelids getting heavier. "I better make a move, my bed is calling, but I just wanted to make sure you're all alright."

Her question was aimed at Kate who had become withdrawn from the conversation. She sat rigid on the sofa, palms clasped together, eyes on the tv where Gary's mugshot was on full display. "There's been this void since Rana's death," she began quietly, "this emptiness. I thought finding out who sabotaged the roof would be the missing piece to the puzzle, you know? That it would give me the closure I needed to make the emptiness go away. But I feel, well… the same. The anger, the hurt, the emptiness, it's all still there. Why is that?"

Carla pondered the question. "I suppose that's because the missing piece was never about finding Rana's killer. The missing piece was always Rana herself."

The words hit hard and Kate bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying. Jenny caught Johnny's eye and the pair headed out of the room, giving the girls some privacy. Carla took her father's space on the sofa and brought an arm around Kate. "You're right, my life's never going to be the same again," Kate said as if realising it for the first time. "There's always going to be something missing. It was naive to think finding out the truth would change that."

"Things will get easier, in time."

"People just say that."

"No, it's true." Carla decided to harken back to her own bitter experience. "When Liam died a piece of me died with him. I thought; what's the point of going on because I'll never find anyone like him again. Our love was a once in a lifetime thing and nothing would ever come close to that again. But I promise you, in time, you learn to live with the loss, the emptiness, and, although it seems impossible now, you learn to move on."

"But how? How did you move on?"

"By telling myself Liam would want me to be happy. Rana would want the same for you too. She wouldn't want you moping around forever. She'd want you to get out there and enjoy yourself. There's a great big world out there, Kate. You're never going to see it stuck in these four walls."

Kate smiled as she recalled a fond memory. "Rana had this thing for Japan, Kyoto especially. She wanted to visit the Geishas, visit the tearooms, leave an offering. She was going to book it for our honeymoon so we could experience it together…"

"Maybe that's would you should do," Carla suggested. "Go to Japan. Do all those things Rana said. Experience it for the both of you."

Kate laughed dismissively. "Don't be daft."

"Why's it daft?"

She laughed again. "I can't go to Japan! I'd be on my own for a start! Not to mention travel costs—"

"I'm sure Johnny would help you out. And if money's tight I'd be happy to chip in."

"You'd do that for me?"

Carla smiled, taking her hand. "Of course I would. You're my baby sister. Go to Japan. Don't go. The choice is yours. Just please, please, don't keep hiding away, thinking about Gary Windass."

The sisters hugged and finally it felt like the rift between them had closed, that they were one step closer to getting back what they'd had before everything went so wrong.

"Carla?"

Kate muffled her name into her shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

They were the words Carla had longed to hear. Tears formed in her eyes and she held Kate tighter. "I love you too… so much."

* * *

That afternoon Peter left Carla sleeping in the flat and headed over to Streetcars. Steve was slumped in the battered armchair in the midst of a tedious phone conversation. "It should be on the sofa where I left it," he was saying. "Well, it can't be far. You'll just have to look for it…Have you checked it hasn't fallen down the sides?... Get off your arse and look for it! I know your ankle's sore but I'm not coming home just to find the flippin' telly remote so you can watch Loose Women! I'm supposed to be working!" He noticed Peter stood at the counter. "I've got a customer waiting so I've got to go. I'm not pretending there's a customer…I've had enough of this! I'm hanging up in three… two… one."

He slammed the phone down with a frustrated sigh.

Peter smirked. "Was that my lovely sister?"

"How did you guess? She can't find the remote for the telly so she wants me to go home and look for it. The cheek of her!"

"So she's milking that ankle injury then?"

"It's Tracy, of course she is! You'd think it was broken from the way she's been carrying on. That woman deserves an Oscar!" Steve realised he was rambling and threw Peter an apologetic look. "Anyway, how are you? Heard you had quite the night of it by all accounts. I keep checking the news for updates. Still, I don't reckon he'll get far, do you?"

"I'm trying not to think about it if I'm honest, Steve." Peter's eyes poked around the cramped office. "Listen, mate, I came here about some shifts."

Steve frowned. "But you don't work here anymore. You work at the bistro now, remember?"

"Well, I'm not likely to forget, am I?" Peter snapped a little irritably. He sighed. "I just want some shifts for today. Driving around relaxes me. Helps clear my head."

Steve looked sceptical. "I don't think that's a good idea, mate. Not after the night you've had. I mean, look at you. I've seen more life in them zombies off The Walking Dead. Have you even slept?"

"I've had a few hours shut-eye. I'm fine, sharp as a tac. Please, mate, whatever you've got, I'll take. I just need to keep busy."

"Avoid Carla more like."

"What?" Peter became instantly defensive. "I'm not avoiding Carla. Why would I be avoiding Carla?"

"A little birdy told me she broke off the engagement."

"Would that little birdy be Tracy by any chance?"

Steve tapped his nose knowingly. "Want my advice? Go home and patch things up."

"I will, Steve, later, but right now I want shifts. An airport run will give me time to work on an apology."

Steve flicked through the messy diary. "Looks like you're in luck. Mr Rigby wants picking up from the airport in an hour, so…"

He became distracted by Sarah who had walked into the office. She didn't look her usual immaculate self. Her blonde hair had been thrown into a last-minute ponytail and there was no makeup on her face to hide the bags circling her red, bloodshot eyes. She kept her head down as she approached the desk. "I need a ride to the hospital for as soon as possible please, Steve."

Steve peered at the computer screen and scratched his neck. "All our drivers are out on call at the minute."

Peter raised his hand like a schoolkid volunteering for something in class. "I can take you."

Sarah stared at him and Peter sensed something hostile about her gaze.

"Unless you've got a problem with that?"

"No," she said as if snapping out of some sort of trance, "I'd appreciate it."

Peter spied Sarah from the rear-view mirror. Silent tears were streaming down her face as she stared out the window. They hadn't exchanged a single word the entire journey. Usually he didn't mind silence with his customers but on this occasion he found the silence deafening.

"So you're off to see Nick I take it?"

He hoped the question would spark some conversation but she simply nodded her head.

It went quiet again. Peter decided it was time to be brave and address the elephant in the room. "I'm sorry about Gary."

He heard sniffling from behind him.

"I'd rather not talk about it if that's okay."

"It's not your fault, you know."

There was a long, heavy pause. "Isn't it? I knew he was involved with the roof. I knew it. If only I'd spoken up, then my brother wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed."

"Sarah, you can't blame yourself. You didn't make Gary do the things he did."

"Not in so many words perhaps. But he only took that stupid loan because he wanted to look after me and the kids. And he only sabotaged that roof out of crazy desperation… desperation to keep us safe."

To Peter it almost sounded like she was defending him. Then again, if the person he loved had done something despicable he would probably try to defend it too, to hell with logic.

* * *

Nick had been resting when a sudden draft alerted him to someone entering the room. He opened his eyes and saw Carla peering her head round the door. "Leanne said it was alright for me to come in but I can always come back later if you're tired, it's no problem…"

He sat up in bed, propping himself against the sturdy pillow. "No it's fine, come on in."

She sat in the chair that had previously been occupied by Leanne. A nervous energy came from her as she ran her hands along her thighs. "So… how are you?"

"Oh, you know, lucky to be alive." He pulled at the neckline of his hospital gown, exposing the bandaging on his chest. "Doctors say I should have a nice scar when it's healed," he said rather proudly, and she grinned.

"Ooh, very hardcore."

They both laughed a little at that.

By looking at Carla you wouldn't be able to tell the ordeal she'd been through just hours ago. It was only on closer inspection that Nick noticed the minuscule scratches from tree branches and the discolouration on her cheeks where angry bruises were beginning to form.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

She answered in typical Carla style. "A few broken ribs, but I'll live. It's you that caught the worst of it. It was real touch and go with you last night, Tilsley. For a moment there I thought I was going to…"

_Lose you._

She stopped herself and stared down at her lap, a little embarrassed at the admission she'd almost made. Nick knew what she was going to say and it touched him deeply to know that despite everything she still cared.

They were reminded in that moment why they had fallen in love in the first place. It wasn't lust or madness as they liked to tell themselves now, but friendship. A truly strong friendship that had been buried under their car crash of a romance.

Something inside Nick softened and he decided it was time to let go of the animosity he'd been harbouring towards her since her betrayal with Robert. "So is Peter still in the doghouse?"

The question prompted her to look up from her lap. She pursed her lips in contemplation. "He did save our lives, so I guess that earns him a few brownie points…"

"He only lied to protect you, you know. Because he didn't want you to get hurt."

"Since when did you start sticking up for Peter?"

He shrugged. "Like you said, he did save our lives. I guess he's not _that_ bad. But if you ever tell him I said that, I'll have to kill you."

She chuckled. Then remembering something, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a white envelope. "I got you this…"

Nick eyed it curiously. "What is it?"

"Open it and you'll find out."

He tore it open and inside was a get well soon card with three white fluffy kittens on the front of it, all bundled in a basket. It was in keeping with the card she had bought him the time she had forgotten his birthday, and he couldn't help but smile. "Is this another Dev classic?"

"It sure is," she said, already grinning.

Her hand settled on his arm. He saw her contemplate removing it, unsure if such a gesture was appropriate, but she kept it where it was. Her green eyes became almost tearful. "Nick… if last night taught me anything it's that life's too short. I don't want to keep fighting you. So how about we put this factory business to bed and call a truce?"

She stuck out her hand as if making a business deal. "So what do you say… friends?"

He shook it gladly. "Friends."

* * *

Peter had finished his shift and it was time to go home and face Carla. He headed out of the Kabin with a bunch of roses and paused at the sight of Imran stood outside the factory. Reconstruction had begun on the place and there wasn't much to see except for scaffolding, but the railing with Rana's weathered photograph still remained, as did the shrine of candles and flowers.

Peter decided to approach. "Hey."

Imran looked over at him and Peter could tell he had been crying.

"I take it you've heard about Gary?"

Imran nodded. "Who hasn't? It's all over the local news. Everywhere I go people are talking about it. Then when I walk in a room it all goes quiet. I feel contagious. The grieving brother. That's all I'll ever be."

"That'll soon change."

Imran was silent as he stared at his sister's picture that blew softly in the wind. There was a heaviness in the air that made Peter feel as if they were stood at her grave.

"I owe you an apology."

Peter frowned. "Me? For what?"

Imran turned and looked at him with eyes full of sorrow and remorse. "For the way I've treated Carla. I've said some terrible things."

Peter harboured no bad blood towards Imran. Just like Kate and Aliyah, he was grieving, and grief made people lash out and do things they regretted. Peter knew that better than most. His grief for Susan had resulted in Billy falling off a cliff. Not a day went by that Peter didn't regret his actions.

He patted Imran on the back. "You should tell Carla yourself. I know it would mean the world to her."

Imran nodded.

Peter could tell the man wanted to be left alone and so he decided to leave him to it. "You take care of yourself, mate."

Peter hoped knowing the truth would finally bring Imran some peace, but he knew the lawyer wouldn't be able to rest until Gary was behind bars. Peter just didn't know when that would be.

* * *

Peter arrived at the flat and found Carla in the kitchen, hair up, apron on, singing along to the radio as she chopped up some herbs. Was this his home he'd walked into or some parallel universe? Carla never cooked. And she never sang.

She hadn't heard him come in, the radio was too loud. He walked up behind her and his eyes immediately fell upon the table laid for two with a burning candle at its centre.

"I take it Roy's not about then?"

His voice startled her. She spun around, ponytail swishing, a hand clutching her chest. She relaxed when she saw it was only him. "Blimey! Don't sneak up on me like that! Not after the night we've had!"

"Sorry. Didn't think."

She turned back around and continued chopping. "And for your information, Roy's down the pub with Evelyn."

"Evelyn eh?" Peter had noticed them spending a lot of time together lately. "Do I smell a romance brewing?"

Carla laughed. "Evelyn? God no! She'd eat Roy alive!"

Peter caught a whiff of something unpleasant in the air. "Love, do I smell… burning?"

"What? Oh!" She opened up the oven door a wave of smoke gushed out. "Oh, flamin' hell!" She coughed and batted it away with her oven mitt. Peter ran over to the window and opened it as wide as it would go and started fanning out the smoke before it triggered the alarm. He returned to the kitchen where Carla was salvaging what she could from the ceramic dish she had rescued from the oven.

"How's it looking? Is it edible?" He didn't hold out much hope.

"It'll have to be. We've got nothing else in."

"What is it?"

Her back remained to him as she continued stirring the pot. "It's that Indonesian dish you like. The one with the name I can't pronounce. It's still your favourite, right?"

"Ugh, yeah." He was surprised that she even remembered. "Love… am I missing something here? I mean, shouldn't it be me cooking you dinner? I am the one meant to be grovelling here, right?"

She turned to face him and folded her arms over her apron. "Don't feel the need to stop on my account."

He revealed the bunch of roses hidden behind his back. Carla looked at them, unimpressed. "Are those for Roy?"

Peter could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "No, um, they're for you."

"Right. Well, you can pop them in some water later. Vases are under the sink."

She wasn't going to make this easy for him.

She brought the ceramic dish to the table and they sat across from each other. "Love," Peter began, his voice full of affection, "I don't know what else I can say other than I'm sorry. I should've told you about Gary from the beginning, but you'd come so far with your recovery that I didn't want anything setting you back. The last thing I wanted was to drag you into this sorry mess."

"But I was dragged into it," she pointed out. "Dragged across a forest floor and nearly buried alive."

He hung his head low. "I know. I hated lying to you, every minute of it. But I honestly thought I was doing the right thing. I just wanted to keep you safe. And I failed, miserably."

Her silence was long and scrutinising and just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, she waved a hand for him to pass her his plate. "Alright, enough grovelling, more eating."

It was safe to say her cooking skills hadn't improved over the years. Every mouthful required a swig of water to wash away the bitter taste and to stop chunks of ginger from getting wedged in his throat. He was surprised there wasn't steam coming out of his ears from the amount of chilli she'd put in it. Still, he was determined to clear his plate.

He watched her bring a forkful to her mouth when suddenly he was blinded by the sparkle from her finger. He stared at it, blinking back his surprise. "You're wearing your ring…"

She wriggled her finger, admiring it. "Ah yes, well spotted."

He felt a surge of hope. "So does that mean…?"

"That we're back on?" She paused as she mulled it over. "You might've lied repeatedly, but for once in your life you weren't doing it to be sneaky. And you did whack Gary over the head with a very large stick, saving my life for- how many times is it now?" She gave up trying to count. "So, yeah, I'd say we're back on."

He closed his eyes, relieved. "Thank you…"

He got up from his chair and went to kiss her but she blocked his kiss with her hand. "But I mean it, Peter. From here on out there can be no more secrets, no more lies, of any kind. Clear?"

He looked right at her so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "Crystal."

Once dinner was cleared away Carla joined Peter on the sofa, slinking her arms around his neck. "So how was dinner? I want marks out of ten."

"Yeah, very nice, love."

He had tried his best to sound convincing but she wasn't buying it. "Now I'd like to point out that you promised to tell no more lies of any kind…"

"Alright, it was a little burnt. A bit strong on the chilli front. And you still need to work on chopping that ginger more finely…" He wracked his brain for something positive to say. "But a solid ten out of ten for effort."

"I appreciate the honesty." She kissed his neck then snuggled closer to him, sighing with contentment as she laid her head on his shoulder. "I think we're finally evolving."

"How so?"

"Well, we just handled a domestic like grownups. Back in the day we would've had a verbal slanging match, one of us would've stormed out and the other would've cracked a bottle open."

He chuckled at her analogy, it was scarily accurate. "Well, after that delightful dinner I better make you a brew and stick on a DVD from Roy's riveting collection."

"God, don't we sound boring!" Carla remarked as he headed over to the kitchen. "We've turned into your dad and Deirdre already. You'll be buying me socks and a ball of knitting next!"

Peter laughed. "You might have Deirdre's culinary skills and I might come out with my dad's pearls of wisdom from time to time but that's as far as the similarities go. I just thought you might want an early night after the eventful one we just had, that's all."

She sighed in contemplation. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

He stopped walking as a better idea came to mind. He turned to her, grinning. "Or…"

"Or?"

"How do you fancy heading down to the snooker hall and having a quick game?"

"I think you're forgetting we need keys to get into that place."

He jangled the set of keys in his pocket. "Already one step ahead of you, sweetheart."

He had picked the keys up earlier from Dev. It had been part of his plan to charm her but the dinner had thrown him off.

"So what to do you reckon? Fancy a rematch?"

She smiled. "Yeah, go on then. But be prepared to be thrashed."

The snooker hall was dark and dingy and reeked of damp, but to them it was magical. It was their place, their very own secret garden they'd discovered together. The game was evenly matched but Peter managed to bag a victory by a few points.

"I blame the broken ribs," Carla said. "It's affected my gameplay."

"Excuses excuses," he tutted. "Another game?"

The offer was tempting but truth be told she was done in and needed her bed. "Another time maybe. Thanks for tonight though. Hanging out like this, having a laugh… it's been fun."

They leaned against the snooker table and stared out at the cluttered room. The last time they had been here together was New year's Eve. That night had marked the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. It only seemed fitting that they should be here now as another chapter came to a close.

Peter's arm settled around her. "Now the truth's out about Gary maybe we can start putting all this behind us eh? What happened to Rana wasn't your fault. You know that, the police know it, and so does everybody else. Now we can move forward and focus on the future…" His fingers brushed over her diamond ring. "… Our future."

"I'd like that," she said sweetly, their fingers interlocking. "I'd like that very much."

* * *

**Author's note: Okay, so that wraps up the factory roof collapse storyline. But with Gary on the run is it really over? If you enjoyed, please review. As always thanks for reading. **


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 – Bad News

It was the first week of December and with Christmas just around the corner the bistro was the busiest it had been all year round. Carla and Peter were rushed off their feet, not that they minded. They thrived off the hustle and bustle, a good thing too, because not only did they have a restaurant to run, they had a wedding to organise.

The registry office was booked for the 25th of January and there was still plenty to do. This time Carla was taking a more laidback approach and Peter was the one fretting over favours, seating plans and table designs. His enthusiasm for the wedding came from a place of guilt. After how royally he had cocked things up the last time, he was determined to give Carla the best day possible.

Three long months had passed since Gary was exposed as the roof saboteur. He was still on the run but as far as the street were concerned he was a distant memory as the community did its best to move forward.

The factory was up and running with a shiny new makeover and a bench dedicated in Rana's memory sat pride of place in the community garden. Kate had taken Carla's advice and gone travelling. Judging by her snaps on social media, she was having the time of her life. Even Imran had managed to find some happiness as he and Toyah recently announced their engagement with a bottle of bubbly in the Rovers. For the residents of Coronation Street, life was finally getting back to normal. But for some, it was all about to change…

Carla and Peter arrived at number one and joined the rest of the family in the living room. They didn't know why they had been summoned, but with Beth and Kirk there too, Carla guessed whatever was going on had something to do with Sinead and the baby. It looked like they were about to get some answers as Daniel took to the middle of the floor.

Everyone waited with bated breath for him to start speaking.

"Enough with the suspense, what's going on?" asked Tracy. "Why the big emergency?"

Daniel seemed on edge and it gave them all a bad feeling in their stomachs. "I wasn't sure how to tell you this, so I figured the best way to do it was to tell you all together."

"Tell us what?" said Beth, her patience waning. "What's going on, Daniel?"

A long, agonising pause. "Sinead's cancer's back."

The words were like an exploding bomb. There was total silence as everyone reeled from the news, trying and failing to make sense of it.

When Beth finally spoke her voice was slow and disbelieving. "I don't understand, they gave her the all-clear… she rang the bell!"

"We found a lump on her neck at the wedding," Daniel explained. "We got the results back today. They told us it's back and it's spread."

"So what happens now?" Claudia dared to ask. "Will she need chemo? Radiotherapy?"

"It's too late for all that," said Daniel. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this but Sinead couldn't face telling you herself…it's terminal." He swallowed painfully. "All they can do now is try and keep her comfortable."

Beth swayed on her feet and Kirk reached out to steady her. "How long? How long has she got?"

It was the question on everyone's mind that only Beth was brave enough to ask.

Daniel shrugged. "Weeks. A month if we're lucky."

"Weeks?!" Beth's chest started to heave with panic. "Where is she now?"

"She's at the flat with Bertie. She wanted me to put you all in the picture…" Daniel trailed off and lowered his head. "I'm so sorry."

Beth wrenched free from Kirk and ran out in tears. Kirk ran after her and the door slammed as they left the house. Daniel didn't hang about either. He left without a word. In his absence a heaviness descended over the room, a silence nobody knew how to fill.

Sinead was dying.

And there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

* * *

Carla left Peter with his family and headed back to the bistro to finish her shift. When her shift ended she headed home to Roy's, but Peter wasn't there. She swung by Ken's, but he wasn't there either. She tried calling his mobile but he wasn't picking up. Out of options, she decided to check the pub and Johnny pointed her in the direction of the beer garden.

She found him sat under the smoker's shelter, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He didn't look pleased to see her. "How did you know I was here?"

"How you do you think?"

Peter gave a roll of his eyes. "Johnny."

He took another slow drag of his cigarette.

Carla ducked under the shelter and sat beside him. Peter was like her in that he internalised his emotions. Afraid of appearing weak, he bottled everything up. Carla sat silently, the gentle nudge of his shoulder her way of letting him know that he didn't have to put on a front for her, that it was okay not to be okay. She wouldn't pass judgment, she was only there to listen.

She knew if she waited long enough, he would eventually open up.

And sure enough, he did. "I can't stop thinking about her. Here's me, a fifty-four-year-old alcoholic who's cruised through life, hurting people wherever I go, drinking myself to oblivion, on thirty a day, I've put my body through all sorts of hell… and then there's her. What's she ever done? She's a good person, you know? She's never hurt anybody. Why her and not me?"

Carla closed her eyes. "Oh darlin', it doesn't work like that. Lifestyle can only do so much. In the end it comes down to the luck of the draw."

Peter shook his head at the injustice of it all. "Twenty-five though, Carla. It's no age at all."

"No, it's not."

Having your own body turn against you was the most the terrifying thing in the world. Carla knew from personal experience. But she had been lucky with her kidneys, Aidan was a match. But nothing could be done to save Sinead. Carla's heart broke for the poor girl. "Daniel must feel so helpless…"

Their hands found their way to each other as they sat in silence. It was days like this that they were reminded of the fragility of life, how never to take it for granted, because it could all change in an instant.

* * *

**Author's note: Only a short chapter this time, but it's introduced the new focus of the story, Sinead's cancer plot. It will play out slightly differently from the show. Thanks for reading.**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 - A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Carla opened her eyes and found Peter already awake, elbow propped against his pillow, looking at her with an adoring smile. "Merry Christmas you."

"Merry Christmas," she said groggily.

He leaned over, kissing her softly. The kiss deepened and Peter's hands reached under the sheets and tugged impatiently on her shorts. "Oi!" Carla batted his hands away. "Enough with the mucky stuff!"

"But it's Christmas morning."

"Exactly! Presents to open, people to see, turkey to eat." Peter groaned with disappointment as she slipped out of the covers. "We've got a busy schedule today, Barlow, so it's all hands to the pump, not all hands on me."

The three of them sat around the tree with their mugs of tea, swarmed by a sea of wrapping paper. Carla and Peter shared amused looks as Roy held up a beige cardigan that was identical to the one he wore on a daily basis.

"Can never have too many beige cardigans right, Roy?" said Carla.

"Indeed." He folded it neatly. "Thank you. Both of you."

"You're welcome," said Peter who handed Carla a small, prettily wrapped gift. "Here you go, love."

"Another one? You've already got me plenty!" She motioned to the perfume bottles, beauty products and designer clothes piled behind her.

"Yeah, well, it's just a small one this time."

"They say good things come in small packages."

"You won't be saying that if it's a pair of socks," Peter laughed.

She tore it open and discovered a small box. She would have thought it an engagement ring had she not already been wearing one on her finger. She curiously opened it up and inside was a silver key. "What's this? The key to your heart?"

"Nope. It's better than that. It's the key to our new place."

"Our new place?" As she said it, excitement stirred within her.

Peter was grinning too. "That's right. I put a deposit on a vacancy in Victoria court. We can move in whenever we like."

Carla had loved her time living with Roy but even she had to admit the three of them under the same roof wasn't without its challenges. The thought of her and Peter getting a place of their own had been playing on her mind for quite some time now. She threw her arms around Peter, nearly toppling him over. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome. But it's not just me you have to thank. I would never have gotten the money together in time if it hadn't been for a certain someone."

Carla looked at Roy who had become a little flustered. "You helped pay the deposit?"

He shrugged modestly. "I had some of my mother's inheritance tucked away that I couldn't find a use for. Helping you secure a place to live seemed like the best way to spend it."

Her heart swelled. "Well, after that I better give you this."

She handed Roy a white envelope from under the tree. His face lit up as he read the inside of the card out loud. "A three-day bat watching expedition in Lancashire! How wonderful."

"I know it's not as extravagant as a new flat, but it's just a little something to say thank you for well… putting up with me really." She could feel herself getting emotional. "You've been a rock to me these last couple of years. I honestly don't know what I would've done without you."

Once all the presents were opened and the wrapping paper put into bin bags, Roy treated them to a cooked breakfast with all the trimmings. Peter sat back in his chair, having cleared his plate, and patted his bulging stomach. "I don't think I'll have room for Christmas dinner after all that."

"Speaking of which, will you two be joining me at Tyrone's this afternoon?"

"No, we've got a Barlow and Tinker Christmas bonanza to look forward to," said Peter. "We thought it would be nice for the families to come together for Sinead's last Christmas."

At the mention of Sinead, the jovial atmosphere turned sombre as they all spared a thought for the dying mother. Roy's eyes briefly fell upon a picture of Hayley on the wall. After a moment or two, he said, "Please give her my love, won't you?"

Peter placed his hand over Carla's. "Of course we will."

That afternoon they popped over to Leanne's to give Simon his presents before traipsing over to No.1 which was already packed with family members, Barlows and Tinkers alike. There were too many of them to fit around a table so the dinner was set out as a buffet and people hovered about with plastic plates.

When Daniel and Sinead arrived Carla could barely hide her shock. The young mother looked gaunt, her skin sallow, eyes sunken and tired. She was unusually thin too. Carla imagined that beneath her baggy Christmas jumper was nothing but skin and bone. Sinead had become so weak that she had to lean on Daniel for support. It must have taken a lot for her to leave the house when most days she couldn't leave her bed so Carla didn't let her gaze linger and greeted Sinead with a big smile. "It's great to see you! Glad you could make it!"

As her arms wrapped around Sinead, Carla's worst fears were confirmed. There was barely anything to hold onto. Sinead's ribs jutted out like spikes. Carla gasped and Sinead pulled back sharply. Daniel gently guided her away. "Come on you, let's get you sat down."

Glasses of champagne began circulating around the room with special non-alcoholic beverages for Sinead, Carla and Peter. The family raised their glasses in a toast. However, Sinead did not join in. She sat very still, staring into space as tears ran down her pale cheeks. Carla wondered what she was thinking about. Bertie, perhaps. The fact this would be her first and final Christmas with him. Maybe she was thinking about all those moments she'd miss out on; his first word, first tooth, his first day at school. Maybe she was thinking about Daniel and how he was going to cope raising their son as a single parent. Maybe she was hearing the silent tick of the clock as the final grains of her life slipped away like sand in an hourglass.

Maybe she was thinking about all those things.

As the evening drew later people started to leave, having other places to go and people to see. Carla ended up sat next to Sinead, who despite the late hour and immense fatigue was showing no signs of calling it a night. Bertie's angelic face gazed up at Carla in wonderment. Holding him like this made her ache for a baby of her own, for the little girl she'd never gotten to hold in her arms. She would be five now. Five. What a crazy thought.

"You're a natural."

Sinead's words snatched her from her thoughts and Carla laughed nervously. "Oh, I don't think so."

"No, really. He's only ever calm like this for me and Daniel. I'm telling you, you've got the magic touch."

Carla felt herself becoming emotional and she handed Bertie back to Sinead. "I think he just wants his mummy."

She watched Sinead and Bertie together and it killed her to know the borrowed time they shared.

"Mrs Connor?"

"Sinead, it's Carla, please."

"Can I ask you a favour?"

"Of course. Anything."

Sinead's eyes remained on her son as she spoke. "I know he'll have Daniel and my aunty Beth, but you'll be there for him, won't you? When I'm gone? It's just… I don't know how Daniel's going to cope. He pretends he's strong but he's not. If it all gets too much for him I need to know that people will step in. People like you."

Carla's stomach twisted painfully whenever Sinead spoke of a time when she would no longer be around. It was so wrong that this girl - because that's all she was, a girl - not only had to contemplate her life coming to an end, but had to spend what little time she had left planning for a future without her in it.

"Sinead, look around you. We're all his family. We'll rally round. You don't have to worry about a thing."

"But I do worry. All the time."

Carla felt the sting of tears and reached for Sinead's hand that cradled Bertie's head. "I'll look out for him always. I promise."

* * *

It was New Year's Eve when tragedy struck.

They were getting the bistro reading for the busy night ahead when they received a phone call from Claudia telling them to come to the house.

Claudia answered the door with a grim expression and invited them into the living room. Tracy and Adam were already there. Tracy turned away when they walked in and wiped her eyes to hide the fact she'd been crying.

Then Claudia sat them down and broke the news that Sinead had died that morning. Carla felt the same sinking feeling as when she'd burst into Roy's flat and found him lying next to Hayley's lifeless body on the bed.

Nobody knew what to say when Ken and Daniel arrived home with little Bertie in tow. Words seemed pointless. Adam was the first to offer his condolences. "I'm so sorry mate. I really am."

Daniel flinched at the words. He looked down at Bertie who was swinging in his baby carrier. "He needs changing. I'm going to take him upstairs."

"I can do it," Tracy offered, rising out of her seat.

"No, I can manage." Daniel hurried upstairs and they waited until they heard his footsteps on the landing before all eyes turned to Ken. The old man poured himself a whiskey and sank down in his armchair. Claudia rested a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"What happened?" Tracy asked.

Her father simply shrugged. "She went to sleep and never woke up. The nurse assured us she didn't suffer. A small comfort, I suppose. Daniel, Bertie and I were by her side the whole time. As were Beth and Kirk. She didn't die alone."

"That's something, I suppose," said Adam.

Peter nodded up at the ceiling. "And how's he doing?"

"He hasn't said a word since it happened."

"He's in shock, darling," Claudia said. "We all are."

Daniel entered the room and it all went quiet. "Please, don't stop on my account."

He sat down at the table and Carla awkwardly rose to her feet. "How about I make us all a brew? Daniel, tea?"

"No thanks."

Carla decided to make one anyway. In truth, she was just desperate to escape the heavy atmosphere of the room. While she waited for the kettle to boil she stepped out into the back yard. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. When she opened her eyes, she nearly screamed.

A figure stood at the bottom of the garden.

They stepped into the light of the window and Carla's eyes narrowed in recognition. She couldn't believe who she was seeing. "Rob?"

"Hello, sis."

He wore a black hoodie and had a duffel bag containing all his possessions draped over his shoulder. He set the bag down on the ground and lowered his hood, revealing a heavily bearded face. He looked older, careworn, but he still had that same boyish charm about him.

He looked at her expectantly. "What? No hug?"

Carla didn't know whether to run to him or scream for help. She remained rooted to the spot, eyes wide, head shaking in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be in prison."

"And you're supposed to be starting a new life in Devon, but things change." He took a step closer and she took one back. "What's the matter, sis? I'm not going to hurt you. Come on, Carla, it's me."

He laughed in an effort to break the tension but she certainly didn't see the funny side. "Have you completely lost your mind? Breaking out of prison? Going on the run? When the police catch you you'll go down for even longer!"

Rob shot a panicked look at the window. "Keep your voice down will you?" he hissed at her. "And for your information, I'm not on the run. Humberside prison released me this morning. I'm a free man."

Carla scoffed loudly. "If that were true you wouldn't be skulking in people's backyards."

"Don't just take my word for it. Call the prison. Hear it from them."

Carla figured he was bluffing her, giving her the option of calling the police so she wouldn't. She decided to play him at his own game and took out her phone. "A lead investigator on my case was found guilty of tampering with evidence," Rob said as she searched for the prison's contact details. "In fact, it turns out he had a long history of doing it. There was a retrial, the evidence was called into question, deemed inadmissible, and I was released on a technicality. Of course, you would've known all this if you'd bothered to take my calls."

She looked up from her phone. "So just like that, they let you out?"

"Tampered evidence throws everything into jeopardy," he said simply. "They had no choice but to let me walk."

Carla knew her brother well enough to know when he was telling the truth. She slipped her phone back into her pocket. She palmed her forehead, feeling faint from the shock. "I don't believe this…"

"I know, crazy right? You know what's even crazier…" He pointed to the window that showcased the Barlows' living room and dropped all hint of a smile. "That after everything that man put you through, you're back in his bed. I thought you'd finally seen sense where he was concerned. What power has he got over you eh?"

They were interrupted by Ken's approaching voice. "Carla? Are you out there?"

Carla panicked and called back sweetly, "Just a minute, Ken."

She dragged her brother into the back alley. She lowered her voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "We can't talk here. Meet me at the Red Rec in half an hour."

* * *

The baby was asleep upstairs and only Ken and his three children remained in the house. Tracy and Peter sat together on the sofa. "So where did her majesty sneak off to?"

Peter looked up from his lap where he'd spent countless minutes staring. "Who? Carla? Oh, something kicked off at the pub and she's gone to make sure Johnny's alright."

Tracy sniggered. "I'm glad she's got her priorities straight. Our brother loses his wife and she thinks now's the time to sneak off for a cheeky glass of red! Unbelievable."

Daniel stood abruptly and headed outside.

Tracy nudged Peter to his feet. "Well go after him then."

Peter stepped out into the backyard and the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. He joined Daniel on the bench and reached for his pack of smokes.

"Give me one of those."

Peter frowned at him. "You don't smoke."

"First time for everything."

Peter didn't see the point in arguing. He couldn't begrudge his brother anything after the loss he'd had. They sat in silence watching the smoke from their cigarettes rise up into the starless night. Peter wanted to offer some words of comfort but he couldn't think of the right words to say. Was there a right thing to say?

In the end, he settled for "I'm sorry."

Daniel laughed miserably. "If I had a pound for the number of times I've heard that today I'd pay off my student loan." He sighed heavily. "I knew she didn't have much time but I thought we'd have longer than this. I should've known something was wrong when she refused to eat or drink anything. That's the first sign of the body shutting down, preparing itself for death. When she said she was tired, I didn't think anything of it. I should've known. "

He laughed again, that same humourless, flat laughter. "You want to know what our last conversation was about? Curtains for Bertie's bedroom. Nothing profound, nothing memorable, meaningful… just curtains. Stupid curtains."

Daniel coughed as he inhaled the cigarette.

Peter watched him with a sense of helplessness. "Don't do this to yourself, Daniel. You weren't to know she wouldn't wake up."

"They say that hearing is the last thing to go. So I kept telling her I loved her over and over. Whispered it into her ear, hoping she'd hear me. Do you think she heard me?"

"I reckon so. And even if she didn't, she already knew."

Daniel realised he was crying and angrily wiped his cheeks. "God, look at me, crying again."

"There's no shame in it."

"Of course there is! She held it together right until the end. And here I am, blubbering like a baby. It's pathetic. Not only that, it's selfish."

"Selfish?" Peter snorted. "Please. You're the least selfish person I know."

"Oh, you'd be surprised."

Peter crushed his ciggie underfoot and turned to face his brother properly. "Daniel, listen to me. You did the best you could. Nobody in your shoes could have done any more. She was lucky to have you by her side."

Daniel recoiled as if the words physically hurt him. "Don't say that. Don't say she was the lucky one. I was the lucky one. Me."

"Daniel, I didn't mean—"

"I've been having an affair."

The words blurted out of Daniel's mouth and stunned Peter into silence. He stared at his brother, mouth open, eyes blinking, utterly dumbfounded.

"See?" said Daniel. "I told you you'd be surprised."

A million questions were swirling through Peter's mind like a snowstorm. "An affair… With who?"

"Bethany Platt." Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing. He would've thought it was a joke if it wasn't so sick and twisted. "I know what you're thinking," Daniel said at his silence. "That I'm despicable, weak, pathetic, that it should be me who's dead. Go on, say it. I deserve it all."

"I might be a lot of things, Daniel, but I'm not a hypocrite. This affair, how long's it been going on?"

"A few months. Something brought us together. Bethany got infatuated by me and my ego was flattered. It was madness, I know that, but I was in over my head."

Daniel could have been describing Peter's mindset with Tina.

"But I ended it when I found out the cancer was back," Daniel affirmed.

"So it's over with Bethany?" Peter asked, needing to be sure on the details.

"Yes, of course it's over! It never should have begun. But it did…" Daniel stared pleadingly at his brother. "Please say something."

"Like what?"

"Anything. Anything at all, just not silence."

Peter was furious at him. Cheating on your dying wife was the lowest of the low. But how could he take the moral high ground? He was no stranger to affairs, to breaking up marriages, mostly his own. "Why tell me now?" Peter asked. "If the affair's over and done with, why say anything at all?"

"Because the guilt's been eating away at me. And now Sinead's gone, all people keep saying is how sorry they are, how I was a brilliant husband and how lucky she was to have me, but that couldn't be further from the truth…"

More tears fell, but Daniel no longer cared. "The truth is she was the most incredible, loving, loyal person… and I wasn't. Our whole marriage feels like a lie, a sham, because that's what I've turned it into!"

"I wanted to tell her about the affair," he went on tearfully. "I wanted to come clean. But when the time came to tell her, I bottled it. It would've broken her heart. I couldn't do that to her… I'm pathetic."

Daniel dropped his head in his hands and sobbed inconsolably. Despite Peter's conflicting emotions, he pulled his brother into his arms and held him still. "Shh, it's alright. It's going to be alright."

"I betrayed her," Daniel cried. "I betrayed her and I can't bear it!"

* * *

Carla joined Rob on the bench overlooking the lake. He tipped his head back and whistled appreciatively up at the sky where a full moon loomed overhead. "It's been a long time since I've seen one of those. It's funny the little things we take for granted," he mused. "You've not told anyone I'm here, have you?"

"No."

"Good."

Carla shivered at the cold and wished she'd worn something warmer than her leather jacket. "So what happens now?" she asked. "Are you going to stick around?"

"Why? Do you want me to stick around?"

He said it with a cheeky grin that reminded her of when they were kids. But they weren't kids anymore. They were adults now and their lives had taken very different turns.

"I can't just forget the past, Rob. What you did—"

"Was a mistake."

"Was _murder."_

There was a long silence.

"Not a day goes by that I don't regret what I did," Rob admitted quietly. "Tina's face still haunts me. It's there when I wake up in the morning and it's there when I go to sleep at night. You have no idea what these past six years have been like for me, Carla. The hell I've endured. Not that I'd expect you to care. After all, you washed hands of me the minute you dobbed me into the police."

"That's not true."

"Oh, yes it is! Your shiny new family waltzed into town and you forgot all about baby brother banged up for murder. How is that new family of yours anyway? You calling Johnny dad yet?" He sniggered. "I bet your Aidan would never stage a daylight robbery or bludgeon a barmaid in a back alley. Nope. Far too respectable for all that is our Aidan."

"He's also dead."

Rob faltered at her words. "Dead? How?"

"Suicide. Happened last year."

Although they hadn't had much to do with each other in recent years, Rob and Aidan had been thick as thieves when they were kids. Always causing mischief together, always pissing off the neighbours. Rob's hard features softened. "Carla, I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

It actually sounded like he meant it.

She nodded sadly. "Me too."

"How did Johnny take it?"

"About as well as you can imagine. It was hard on him, on all of us, but we're getting there. Or at least we were until disaster struck at the factory."

Rob frowned. "The factory? What happened at the factory?"

"I'd really rather not get into it."

"Tough. Tell me. What happened at the factory?"

It felt like a lifetime since she had spoken about it. "The roof caved in and someone died. Not just someone… Kate's fiancé."

"I imagine that caused some family friction."

Carla laughed morbidly. "Understatement of the year."

Rob scratched his head, wracking his brain for answers he didn't have. "I don't get it. Roof's don't just fall down. Something must have triggered it."

"It was sabotage," she said. "Remember Gary Windass?"

"The builder?"

Carla nodded. "He tampered with the roof for some insurance scam. Now he's on the run. A bit like you."

Rob rolled his eyes. "For the last time, I'm not on the run!"

"I know, I know. I checked with the prison and they explained the situation."

The breeze picked up suddenly and a cold chill rippled across the lake. Rob stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Well, it sounds like you've had quite the year of it, sis. Then again, Karma's a bitch."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I won't be shedding any tears over your problems. Not after I've spent the best part of six years rotting in a cell thanks to you."

"No, thanks to _you. _I might've grassed you up, Rob, but you killed Tina. You did. Not me!"

It was the second time Tina had been brought up and Rob squirmed uncomfortably. "Let's not rake all that up eh? Not tonight."

A phone vibrated against the bench and Carla sat up. She retrieved it from her back pocket and Rob rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. Peter?"

She rejected the call with the swipe of her thumb. "I should go," she said, getting to her feet. "He'll be wondering where I am."

"Yeah, that's right. Go running back to him. The story of your flamin' life that, Carla."

"I would stay longer if I could. It's just things are complicated at the moment."

"They always are with him."

Carla felt bad walking away. He might be a murderer but he was still her baby brother. "Have you got somewhere to sleep tonight?"

He smirked. "Why? Are you offering to put me up in the spare room?"

"Rob, I'm serious."

He patted the park bench. "This will suit me just fine."

"Don't be daft! You'll catch your death out here." She pulled out a wad of cash from her purse. "Here. Use this to get yourself a room for the night."

He shoved her hand away. "I don't want your money!"

"You might not want it, but you need it, so stop being so flamin' proud and take it. The Plaza Hotel's a short walk from here. Check yourself in and I'll pop over and see you tomorrow."

He reluctantly snatched the money out of her hand and stuffed it into the pouch of his oversized hoodie. "Don't tell anyone you saw me here. I mean it, Carla. Not Peter, not Ken, and especially not Tracy. Got it?"

"Fine. Whatever you want."

She gave him one last lingering look, shaking off the surrealness of seeing him in the flesh as a free man, and she turned away.

"Oh, Carla, one last thing…"

She turned back to see him grinning at her, eyes twinkling under the moonlight.

"Happy new year, sis."

Carla didn't repeat the sentiment. She just walked away. If tonight was the shape of things to come, she didn't hold out much hope for the new year.

* * *

Carla came home to an empty flat.

She assumed Peter was spending the night at Daniel's which meant she'd be seeing the new year in alone. They had moved into Victoria Court a few days ago and everything was unpacked save for a few boxes. All the furniture was from her house in Devon which had spent the last two years gathering dust in storage. She would miss living with Roy but was glad to have her independence back.

Besides, this place was much more to her taste. Open plan with fresh white walls, a stylish corner sofa loaded with cushions, a gold embellished rug, a rustic dining set with copper chairs and low hanging lights. Her favourite feature of the apartment was the balcony. It was too cold to sit out there tonight though so she watched the firework display from behind the glass sliding doors.

Each explosion lit up the sky with the most amazing colours. She heard people cheering out on the street below. She didn't feel in a celebratory mood. Not when a young woman had died just hours ago.

The good always died young: Liam, Hayley, Rana, even Tina….

And now Sinead.

It wasn't fair that Sinead was dead yet her murdering brother was allowed to live his life as a free man.

A melancholy came over Carla, a sadness she couldn't shake, and she poured herself a glass of wine.

They didn't keep alcohol in the house for obvious reasons, but someone at work had given it to her as a gift. Carla hadn't touched a drop since her breakdown. She couldn't because of the medication she was on. But tonight, after the shock of losing Sinead and then having her brother turn up out of the blue, she needed something to take the edge off, to block it all out.

She put on the song The Drugs Don't Work by The Verve. It was the song she and Liam had danced to on his 21st. They had been so young back then, so carefree.

Memories flashed through her mind; Liam's lifeless body being hauled into an ambulance, Roy lying next to Hayley on the bed, Tina sprawled out below the balcony of builder's yard, Johnny cradling Aidan on the bathroom floor, Sinead's frail demeanour on Christmas day…

Carla lifted the glass of red wine to her lips.

Just as she was about to take a sip, a steady hand gently urged the glass from her grasp and set it down on the counter.

Carla turned around and there was Peter.

The sadness she felt was mirrored in his dark eyes. He opened up his arms and she stepped into his embrace. She closed her eyes as his arms settled around her and they began to sway to the music. In a world where nothing made sense, where bad things happened without rhyme or reason, they were grateful they had each other. As the music faded out, Peter whispered against her ear, "Happy New Year, love."

* * *

**Author's note: Not such a happy new year after all then. Sinead's gone and Rob's back on the scene. How will his return go down with the rest of the street? And how will the Barlows cope after the loss of Sinead? Daniel's story differs slightly from the show in that he was having an affair with Bethany. How will he cope with the guilt of that going forward?**

**Thanks for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: Thanks for all your reviews! It really encourages me to keep writing. Sorry for any grammatical errors, feel free to point them out. **

* * *

Chapter 15 – Brother Dearest 

The Plaza hotel wasn't the kind of five-star luxury Carla was used to. The dining hall was a sorry sight with its drab seventies wallpaper and hideous patterned carpet. She turned her nose up at the breakfast buffet stand. The food looked like the sort of thing you'd be served in a prison. Rob should feel right at home then, she thought.

He was sat over by the window. He had shaved and looked more like his old self again, still in his rundown clothes. His plate was piled high with sausages and bacon and he was guzzling it down like he hadn't eaten for days. Carla sat across from him, which prompted him to look up from the mountain of food. He swallowed down a greedy mouthful then gestured around them. "It's not exactly the Ritz but I thought I'd make the most of the free breakfast." He prodded a fried egg with his fork. "That doesn't look done enough. Are you sure you don't work here?"

"Haha. Very funny."

His knife cut into the egg and the yolk oozed out. The sight made Carla quite sick.

"Didn't Peter have anything to say about you leaving the house this early in the morning?"

"He's got bigger things on his mind."

Rob sneered. "Yeah, other women I'll bet. He was probably desperate to get you out the way so he could bring his latest floozie round for a quickie."

"He's not that man anymore."

"A tiger doesn't change its stripes."

Carla felt the need to defend Peter, to try to make her brother see that he wasn't the man who had broken her heart. "When the factory roof came down, nobody on that street wanted anything to do with me. I was a pariah. Peter was the only one who stood by me, Rob. The only one."

"And didn't he just love it, playing the hero."

"It wasn't like that."

"He took advantage, Carla. He saw you were vulnerable and he swooped."

It was pointless trying to reason with him. "Why would I expect you to understand? What do you want anyway? You're a free man. You can go anywhere in the world. So why come back here? To me? What is it you're after? Is it money? Revenge? Both?"

"Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to see my sister?"

"Oh, pull the other one, Rob. Have you forgotten our cosy conversation the last time I visited you inside? When you were stirring the pot with Johnny, playing mind games, trying to cause me nothing but grief?"

He shrugged unapologetically. "What can I say? I was in a dark place and took my fun where I could get it." He swallowed another greedy mouthful. "Of course, it's not just you that I'm here to see. There's Tracy, Michelle—"

Carla held up a hand. "Whoa, let me stop you right there. Michelle doesn't live here anymore and Tracy's with Steve now. They're married, happily."

She'd added the last bit to stick the knife in, to hurt him, and it worked. "She had to get on with her life at some point," Carla said at the wounded look on his face. "So did I."

He scoffed loudly. "You couldn't move on quick enough! Less than a year later and you already had a new family."

If she didn't know any better, she'd say he sounded jealous.

"Rob, just because I have them, it doesn't change what we've got. You'll always be my brother. We've got years worth of memories."

"Stop it, you're making my head swell." He pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. "You know what, I've had enough of this. What are you even doing here, Carla? Why don't you just go?"

"Not until I know what you're going to do."

"Well, you're not going to find me raising a pint in the Rovers if that's what you're worried about. The residents will be out with their pitchforks."

Deciding to cut to the nature of her visit, Carla leaned across the table. She kept her voice low and discreet. "I have a proposition for you."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, here we go…"

"Just listen. I've set up an account in your name and I've transferred five grand into it. That's enough for you to get back on your feet, to start again somewhere else, somewhere far from here."

"In other words, it's bribe money."

"What's the alternative? You can hardly stay round here. You said it yourself, you'll be lynched! Take the money and go. Think of it as a brand-new fresh start."

He looked at her long and hard, eyes scrutinising and measuring. "You know, in all these years you've not changed one bit. You still think you can throw your money around and everyone will dance to your tune. Well, not me. Not anymore. Stuff your money. And stuff you."

He pushed his chair back as he stood, and Carla rolled her eyes at the theatrics of it all. "Rob, don't be silly, sit down."

"Bye, Carla. It was nice knowing you."

* * *

When Carla arrived home, Peter and Daniel were sat on the sofa, engrossed in deep conversation. They stopped talking the instant she walked in and she feared she had intruded on something. "I can come back later if it's a bad time?"

"Not at all." Daniel stood hastily and grabbed his jacket. He made a beeline for the door but Carla caught his arm before he could escape. "Daniel…" Her voice was soft and laced with concern. "I hope you're doing okay, looking after yourself?"

His mouth twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I'll be fine." He said it too quickly for her to believe him, then he slipped past her and out the door before she could subject him to further questioning.

With Daniel gone, Carla turned her attention to Peter who sat massaging the bridge of his nose. She could tell by his hunched demeanour that he was stressed out about something. She came and sat beside him. "So are you going to tell me what all that was about?"

"Believe me, you don't want to know." A sigh. "Last night Daniel told me something…"

"Told you what?" Silence. "_Peter._ Told you what?"

He lifted his eyes to meet hers. "He's been having an affair."

Carla sat up, shocked. Then she laughed dismissively. "An affair? Daniel? No, he wouldn't…"

It sounded too ludicrous to be true. She had always regarded Daniel as the most moral of the family, the most loyal. Daniel wouldn't cheat. Not on Sinead. Not on his dying wife.

Carla felt sick to her stomach. "Who with?"

She would wring the neck of whichever slapper thought it okay to sleep with a married man with a dying wife and new-born son at home.

"Bethany Platt."

"Bethany Platt?!"

She didn't know what was more shocking. The fact Daniel was having an affair, or that it was with Bethany Platt. Bethany didn't strike her as the type to play away. Then again, neither did Daniel. She was silent for the longest time as she tried to process it all. "How could Daniel do such a thing when Sinead was so sick?"

"He said he ended it when they found out the cancer was back."

"And that makes it alright does it?" The shock on Peter's face made her realise she'd spoken too loudly. "I'm sorry, I'm not angry at you, it's just… I don't know how I feel about this."

"Neither do I," Peter admitted. "But how do you think Daniel feels? I'm by no means condoning what he's done, but he's just a kid who's made a terrible mistake. I've done far worse at an age where I should've known a whole lot better."

Carla couldn't argue with that. Bunking up with the babysitter behind the back of your pregnant wife was up there with cheating on your dying wife in her book. Still, she wasn't about to reopen old wounds.

"Who else knows about this?" she asked.

"Only me. And now you, obviously. But we've got to keep this between us. Imagine if the Tinkers found out. It would break their hearts."

"Yeah, course, that goes without saying."

Carla had come home with the intention of telling Peter about Rob, but after this bombshell, she decided it could wait.

"You alright, love?"

Carla realised she'd zoned out and forced a smile. "Yeah. Why?"

"I don't know," he said, sounding uncertain. "You seemed tense when you walked in. Like you had something to tell me."

"No." She could tell he wasn't convinced so she added, "It's just all this stuff with Sinead and now Daniel. This whole situation is just horrible."

"You can say that again."

Carla caught the time on the clock behind Peter's head and jumped to her feet. "God, I better get going, I said I'd be at the bistro twenty minutes ago. Don't worry, you don't have to come in, I've got Ryan to cover for you."

"How come?"

"Because you've had a bereavement," she said. "I didn't think you'd be up for working today."

"No, I'll come in. It beats moping around here."

* * *

The women hugged in the doorway then Tracy stepped out onto the street. "Listen, babe, if you need anything, and I mean anything, you know where I am."

Beth smiled appreciatively from the doorway and dabbed her eyes with a crumpled tissue. "Thanks, babe. I'm going to make a start on the funeral plans and I was actually wondering if you could do the flowers? You know, the wreaths and all that?"

"I'd be honoured."

Beth was one of Tracy's best and only mates and Tracy was determined to do all she could to get her and Daniel through this difficult time.

"How's Daniel doing today?"

"You know what Daniel's like," Tracy said. "A man of few words. He's trying to put on a brave face but he's not fooling anyone. Dad's worried sick about him."

"I might pop round and see him later to discuss the funeral. I know it sounds a little eager, but I just can't bear the thought of her in that morgue."

Tracy nodded in understanding. "You're welcome over any time. I need to get back to the shop. I've left Mary in charge and that's never a good idea. Remember I'm one call away if you need anything, alright?" She blew her a kiss. "I'll be back round to check on you soon."

Beth blew her a kiss back before closing the door.

Tracy carried on towards the florist when, out the corner of her eye, she spotted a hooded figure watching her from across the street. She could feel his gaze burning into her and became deeply unsettled. She stopped walking and looked over at him, about to give the creep a piece of her mind, when suddenly it struck her that she knew him.

But it couldn't be… could it?

He turned and fled down the ginnel and she took off after him. Her legs were running on their own accord down the narrow alleyway. She reached a dead end and there he was, cornered, his back facing her, hood pulled up over his head. Her heart was hammering in her chest. It might not even be who she thought it was, but she had this hope inside her, this certainty that it was.

"Rob…?" she called out nervously, a mix of fear and excitement stirring inside her. "Rob, is that you?"

The figure turned slowly and removed his hood. "Hello, Trace."

Her name on his lips sent shivers through her. "I knew it!" she cried. "I knew it was you!" She wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around him and kiss him, but something was stopping her. She frowned at him, blinking furiously. "I don't understand… what are you doing here? How did you escape?"

"I didn't. I was let out."

"Is this a windup?"

He shook his head. "I'm a free man, Trace. And I intend to stay that way."

"A free man…"

She longed to kiss him, but the ring on her finger was holding her back. She was married now. She couldn't betray Steve.

"Rob, I…"

He raised a hand, stopping her. "It's alright. I know about you and Steve."

The words shocked her and she felt a crippling sense of shame. "How?"

"Carla told me."

"Carla?" A surge of jealousy overcame her. "So you went to see her before you saw me? Oh, cheers! Thanks a bunch!"

"She told me about you and Steve, that you remarried. And I'm really happy for you, Trace." There was no bitterness in his voice, no malice, just sincerity. "I won't lie to you, it kills me that I can't be the bloke who gets to spend the rest of his life with you, but that's my own fault, and Steve, he's a good bloke. Sure, he's not got my brains, or my wit, or my irresistible good looks, but he'll take care of you. And that's all I want. I just hope he knows how lucky he is."

His words moved her to tears. "Rob…"

"I didn't come here to cause trouble or to try to win you back," he said honestly. "I just wanted to see you one last time."

The words struck fear in her heart. "One last time?"

He nodded. "Carla's given me some money to start again somewhere else, somewhere far from here. I wasn't going to take it at first, but now I've changed my mind."

"Where will you go?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? I've always fancied somewhere by the coast. Maybe I'll become a surfer dude."

"You? A surfer dude?" Tracy laughed. "I'd pay good money to see that!"

However her laughter was followed by a sudden sadness as she realised this was it. Goodbye.

She tried to mask the disappointment from her voice. "So when are you leaving?"

"Well, there's no point in hanging around. My train leaves tonight."

"Tonight? Why so soon?"

"There's nothing keeping me around here anymore. Not you, and especially not Carla…" Tracy felt a tear escape down her cheek and Rob reached out and tenderly wiped it away. He let his hand linger, then gave a smile, which was his way of saying goodbye. "Believe me, Tracy. This is for the best. The sooner I'm gone, the better."

* * *

Carla was serving a customer at the bar when Tracy stormed in and slammed her fist on the counter. "Thanks a lot!"

Carla apologised to the customer then glared at Tracy. "What on earth are you going on about?"

"Rob! He's leaving because of you!"

Carla tensed at her brother's name and spared a fleeting glance over her shoulder to make sure Peter wasn't in earshot. "Keep your voice down, will you?"

The kitchen door opened and Peter appeared with a hot plate. His eyes shifted suspiciously between the women. "Should my ears be burning? What's all this about Rob?"

"Oh, it's nothing, love."

Carla's eyes were begging Tracy not to say anything.

"It's not nothing!" Tracy spat venomously. "Rob's out of prison and sister of the year over here has offered him a bribe to get rid of him! That's how it's always been with you isn't it, Carla? Flashing your gold card to get rid of your problems, even when that problem's your own family! You sicken me!"

"Whoa, just hold on a minute," Peter said. "Rob's out of prison? He's walking the streets?... Carla?!"

At her inability to look at him, he cried, "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because she thought she could buy him off with a few quid so you'd never need to know!"

Carla seethed at Tracy for dropping her in it. "Why do you care where Rob goes? You're with Steve now. Rob's got nothing to do with you anymore."

"Well, somebody has to look out for him!"

With that, Tracy stormed out and Carla yelled after her. "Hey! Where are you going? Get back here, Barlow!"

The doors swung in Tracy's wake and customers who were nosily looking over returned to their respective conversations. Carla looked to her side but there was an empty space where Peter had previously stood. Ryan who was slouched against the bar nodded towards the kitchen. "He went that way."

Carla found Peter pacing the confines of the small courtyard, struggling to light a cigarette. He scowled when he saw her approach. "Look, Peter, I know you're angry—"

He cut her off sharply. "Angry? Your brother who murdered Tina and let me take the fall for it is out roaming the streets, free as a lark! So no, Carla, angry doesn't cut it! I'm livid!"

He gave up trying to light it and threw it on the ground. "When?"

She frowned. "When what?"

"When did you see him?"

"New Year's Eve," she admitted. "Daniel had just come to the house and I stepped outside for some air and there he was, at the bottom of the garden."

"And you had no idea they'd let him out?"

"No! I've not spoken to Rob in years!"

Peter continued to pace, circling her. "So what happened next?"

"I didn't want him going into the house and causing a scene so I put him up in a hotel."

Peter stopped still. "You did what? A hotel! Did you pay for room service as well? I mean, the bloke's just come out of D wing, we might as well roll out the red carpet!"

Carla threw her hands out in desperation. "What was I supposed to do? Let him freeze to death on the streets!"

"Yes!"

"He's family!"

"He's a killer, Carla! And what was all that Tracy was saying about you bribing him with money to get shot of him?" He stamped his foot at her reluctance to speak. "Well?"

"I offered him a loan to get him back on his feet."

"How much?" More silence. "I said how much?!"

She closed her eyes. "Five grand…"

Peter staggered backwards as if all the wind had been knocked out of him. "Five grand?! You've got that kind of money lying around, do you?" He shook his head at the silence that followed. "No, I didn't think so."

"He needed something, Peter," she said as he turned away. "With his criminal record, he'll be lucky to find a job at all."

"That's his problem, not ours. If there was any justice in the world he wouldn't be walking the streets at all!"

"Well, he'll be far away from here by tonight so you'll never need to worry about him again."

Whipping around, Peter charged at her, wagging a finger in her face. "That bloke could be on the other side of the world and it wouldn't be far enough! I'm telling you now, if I see him walking around here I'll kill him." It was no threat, it was a promise. "Great! This is all we need!"

He threw Carla a look that cut to the bone then headed inside without another word.

* * *

Rob stood on the platform with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. As the train pulled into the station, people flocked towards the beeping doors. Rob joined the back of the crowd. He was in no rush to get on board, there was bound to be a single seat available. The train would take him to King's cross and from there he'd catch the train to Truro, a coastal town in Cornwall where he would begin his new life. Down there no one would know his name or the things he'd done. It was a clean slate, a chance at a normal life.

He had one foot on the train and the other on the platform when a voice called out, "Rob Donovan! Don't you dare get on that train!"

He looked over his shoulder and saw Tracy pushing her way through the crowded platform. It felt like the scene at the end of a movie when the hero comes to confess their undying love. Except this wasn't a movie, he was no prince charming, and there was no chance of them riding off into the sunset with Steve McDonald around.

He waited on the platform and Tracy collapsed in front of him, signalling with her hand that she needed a minute to catch her breath. Then she straightened up. "Crikey, the last time I ran that fast I was being hunted by a mad man with a gun," she laughed breathlessly.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Let's call it a lucky guess."

Rob was secretly thrilled she'd come all this way just to find him, but he couldn't let it show. He tried to remain cold and indifferent. "So have you come to wave me off?"

"No, I came to do this…" She closed the distance between them and kissed him hard.

The instant their lips touched a spark ignited and it took tremendous willpower for Rob to pull back.

"No, this isn't right," he said breathlessly. "You're with Steve now. You're happy, you love him."

"I do love Steve. He's a great husband and a brilliant dad to Amy. But the thing is… he's not you."

With that, they were kissing again and Rob found himself unable to stop, too lost in the moment. Their foreheads touched as they stared desperately into each other's eyes. Tracy's were brimming with tears. "Please, Rob… stay."

He wanted so much to give in, but he couldn't. "It's not that simple for me, is it? Around here I'm a murderer."

"They'll just have to get used to you. I killed Charlie Stubbs and they got used to me! They'll just have to suck it up."

Her no-nonsense attitude always brought a smile to his face. But it didn't change the facts. "Trace, I'm sorry… but I can't."

He was conscious the train was getting ready to depart. If he wasn't on board in the next minute or so it would leave without him.

Tracy grabbed his face with both hands and forced him to look at her. Tears were streaming down her face. "Don't you see what we've been given here? You shouldn't be out for another twenty years! And yet here you are, and here I am... and that future we thought was gone is ours again for the taking. So let's grab it with both hands. Don't leave me again. Please, Rob… stay."

* * *

Carla returned to the flat after a late shift at the bistro and heard male voices out on the balcony. She went to investigate and found Peter and Steve sat outside in the cold, a bottle of scotch between them. She coughed loudly, getting their attention, and their heads shot to the doorway where she stood with her arms folded, a bemused expression on her face. She nodded to the bottle of scotch on the table. "What's all this then?"

"Before you start, I've not touched a drop," Peter said. "Steve brought it over. He's had a bit of bad news, haven't you, Steve?"

"What kind of bad news?"

Peter nudged Steve who looked like he was on the verge of passing that. Either that, or throwing up. "Are you going to tell her or shall I?"

"I'll tell her," Steve slurred. "Stacy's gone."

"Stacy?" Carla frowned. "You mean Tracy?"

"Yes, that's what I said...She's gone!"

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Back to your scumbag of a brother, that's where!"

"She called a couple of hours ago to say she's leaving town for a few days," Peter explained. "Oh, and that she wants a divorce. So much for Rob being out of our lives for good, eh?"

"First Becky, then Michelle, now Tracy…" Steve started to cry. "Why do women keep leaving me? What's wrong with me?"

Peter patted him on the back. "Nothing's wrong with you, mate. Nothing at all." He helped Steve to his feet, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. "Come on, Stevie boy. Let's get you to bed, eh?"

"Thanks, Pete. You're the best. You're my best mate, you know that? You too, Clara."

"It's Carla," she corrected him as they stumbled past her in the doorway.

Carla had changed into her pyjamas and was lying on the sofa with a magazine draped over her lap when Peter emerged from the guest bedroom. "Has he stopped throwing up yet?" she asked.

"I think so. I've put a bucket by the side of his bed just in case."

"Delightful."

Peter plopped down beside her and she sighed, closing her magazine. "Have you heard anything off Tracy?"

"Not a dicky bird."

"I can't believe she'd be stupid enough to pack things in with Steve. What must she be thinking?"

"Tracy doesn't tend to think, love. She's impulsive."

"Stupid, more like. Let's just hope she sees sense and comes home with her tail between her legs." She studied Peter carefully. "So have you forgiven me yet?"

"For what?"

"What do you think?"

He sighed heavily. "Well, I can hardly blame you for Rob being released, can I? But you should've told me. After everything with Gary, I thought we'd promised not to keep secrets from each other? Total honesty, that's what you said."

"I know. I'm sorry, you're right." She gave a thoughtful pause. "Listen, I've been thinking… maybe we should postpone the wedding, at least until the funeral's out the way?"

She knew it was a big ask. The biggest, in fact. Peter had put his heart and soul into organising the wedding. "I want to marry you more than anything," she said at his look of disappointment, "but there's just so much going on right now that I think we need to deal with one thing at a time, don't you?"

After a moment or two, he squeezed her hand, nodding in agreement. "One thing at a time."

* * *

**Author's note: Sorry these chapters are taking so long to get out, but I'm really busy atm. Anyway, it seems Tracy and Rob have run off together, Steve's a broken man, Daniel's in a bad place, the wedding is postponed... will things ever go right? **

**Next time: It's the day of the funeral and there are plenty of fireworks!**

**Thanks for reading. **


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note: Here's what's happened so far in a nutshell: Rob's back, Tracy's ditched Steve, Sinead's died, Daniel's been a naughty boy with Bethany, and that's about it (I think).**

**As always, thanks for reading.**

* * *

Chapter 16 - Funeral Fireworks

Peter was checking himself over in the mirror when Carla appeared behind him in a plain black dress. She looked beautiful, but he didn't think it appropriate to say so. After all, it wasn't like they were off to a party, they were going to a funeral.

He turned away from the mirror and Carla stepped towards him, shaking her head at his tie. "You've made a right mess of that." She straightened it out, then looked him up and down, nodding her approval. "There. That's better."

He caught her hands and held them to his chest, against the steady beat of his heart. "What would I do without you?"

It was days like today that reminded him how lucky he was, how lucky they both were, to have each other, to still be here.

He headed over to the window where rain drizzled miserably down the glass pane. Even the weather was in mourning, he thought. On the street below, residents had lined up outside their houses in a mark of respect as two black cars began a slow descent down the cobbled street.

"The hearse is here," he said, turning away from the window and hurrying over to the front door. "I'm going to head over to the church with Daniel. Are you still alright to follow on with Simon?"

"Yeah, course. You just worry about Daniel. I'll see you there."

He was about to head out when something made him pause. He looked back at her longingly. "I love you."

They were words he said all the time but today he really needed her to hear them.

From the darkened corner of the room, she smiled sadly back at him. "I love you too."

* * *

Carla sat shivering in the freezing church. She gazed up at the high ceiling where hideous looking gargoyles stared down at her. In an effort to lighten the mood she nudged Simon and pointed up at one, "Hey, it looks like your aunty Tracy made it after all."

No one had seen hide nor hair of Tracy since she took off with Roy three weeks ago. Carla had hoped she would at least make it back for the funeral, but that was Tracy Barlow for you; selfish to the core.

All heads turned as the doors at the back of the church opened up and Sinead's coffin was carried in to Kate's Bush's This Woman's Work. The coffin was brought to the front of the church and a framed photo of Sinead was placed on top of it. As the music faded out, Peter, who had been one of the pallbearers, joined Carla in the pew and they held hands.

Billy welcomed everyone to the service, his humble manner dampened by the sadness of the occasion, then he invited Beth up to speak. Beth wore of Sinead's vintage coats. She dug deep into its oversized pocket and fished out a crumpled sheet of paper. She straightened it out with trembling hands. "Sinead was…" Her voice faltered and she tried again. "Sinead was…"

She stopped reading. Scrunching the paper into a ball, she tossed it aside and chose to speak from the heart, where the words flowed more easily. "Sinead was a glass half full kind of girl. She always looked on the bright side. And that's exactly what she did with the cancer. She never wallowed, never complained, she just got on with it. Because that's the kind of person she was…"

Beth gazed up at the church's high ceiling. "And if there is such a place as heaven, which I believe there is, I know she's looking down on us because she was an angel." She spoke directly to the coffin now and the tears were unstoppable. "Sinead, darling, you were an angel. Sweet dreams baby girl."

Daniel was next to speak. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the podium. He looked nervous but there was also a strange determination about him. "As most of you probably know, I'm not a religious man. In fact, I'd go as far as to say I detest religion and think it's the root cause of most problems in the world, but that's a matter for another time."

Carla and Peter looked at each other, unsure where this was going.

"My wife however, was religious, and I know these places are meant to be about truth and honesty…" Daniel paused, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "That's why I can't stand in front of you all today and pretend I was the doting husband. Because not only would I be lying to myself, to all of you, but most importantly, I'd be lying to Sinead…"

"Daniel," Peter hissed in warning. "Maybe you should sit down?"

"Peter's right," said Beth sweetly. "Come on darling, come sit back down."

"No, I'm sorry, I've got to say this…" Carla's grip on Peter's hand tightened as she dreaded the confession Daniel was about to make. "For the last few months, I've been having an affair."

The church went so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

"It was a mistake. A stupid, reckless mistake, and I wish with all my heart it hadn't happened, but it did…" Daniel walked up to the coffin and laid his hand upon it. His voice warbled as he addressed his wife's photograph. "I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed me to be." Daniel allowed his hand to linger a moment longer before tearing it away and fleeing down the aisle.

Carla nudged Peter out of the pew. "Go after him!"

When Peter caught up to Daniel outside the church he found him leaning against the stone wall, breathing shakily, staring up at the desolate sky. "What the hell was that?!" Peter berated him.

"The truth needed to come out."

Daniel sounded so nonchalant, so unphased.

"Why?! Nobody knew anything! You didn't have to say a word! Now all you've done is cause Sinead's family a whole world of pain! Why today? Why couldn't you have let them have this one day?"

Daniel straightened. "Because today wasn't about them. Or me. It was about Sinead. And I needed her to know the truth." He became distracted by a cab pulling up in the distance. When he spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. "Listen, I need you to make me a promise. Promise me you'll look after Bertie while I'm gone."

"Gone? What are you talking about? Where are you going?"

But Daniel had already started hurrying away. "It doesn't matter where, just say you'll do it!"

"Hey! Daniel! Get back here! I said get back!"

Daniel hopped into the taxi without so much as a backward glance and Peter could do nothing but watch as it sped away.

* * *

Peter didn't hang about for the burial. He headed over to Daniel's flat hoping he might catch him there and talk him out of the madness of running away, but when he got there, the place was in darkness. If Daniel had been back to pack a bag, he was long gone by now.

Feeling defeated, Peter headed over to the Rovers where the wake was being held and joined Carla at the bar. "I've been calling you nonstop," she said worriedly. "Where have you been? Where's Daniel?"

Before Peter could explain, Beth came staggering over. "Where is he then? The lying, cheating rat!"

Emotions were running high after the funeral but the last thing Peter wanted was to cause another scene. "He's gone away," he said simply.

Beth gave a thunderous roar. "Gone away?! He's run away?! The coward!"

Those that were enjoying a quiet drink started to look over.

"Beth, I know you're upset, but try to calm down, yeah?"

Beth wagged a finger in Carla's face. "Don't tell me to calm down! I just buried my niece! And the one person she trusted most, the one person who was supposed to be by her side no matter what, was having it away with someone else! I should wring his scrawny neck!"

Kirk appeared beside Beth and gently coaxed her away. "Come on, this isn't doing anyone any good. Let's sit you down."

Once Beth was out of earshot, Carla turned to Peter. "Okay, spill. Where is he really?"

"Gone."

"Gone? What does that even mean? Gone where?"

"I don't know," Peter shrugged. "He told me to look after Bertie then he took off in a taxi."

Carla's eyes widened. "And you let him!?"

"What was I supposed to do? Wrestle him to the ground?"

"Did he at least say when he was coming back!?"

Peter gave another helpless shrug and Carla clutched her heaving chest. "Oh Peter, what if he's gone to do something stupid? You saw him in that church, he was a mess!"

The thought that Daniel would try and do something reckless had been nagging at Peter too but he'd tried to ignore it. Now there was no ignoring it. "I'll try calling him again."

However, the call went straight to voicemail. Peter struggled to keep the panic from his voice as he left a message. "Daniel, it's me again. I'm worried about you. Let me know you're alright. Call me back."

Peter hung up the phone just as Beth headed back over for round two, despite Kirk's efforts to hold her back. "What is wrong with your family eh? Why can't they keep it in their pants? It must be in the genes to play away! My Sinead deserved better!"

She was hysterical and Peter was painfully aware of the rest of the pub looking over. "Beth, I know you're upset but whatever Daniel might've done, he loved Sinead."

"Loved? Loved!? Your lot don't know the meaning of the word! It should be him that's dead and I'd cheer his coffin!"

"That's enough!" said Carla.

"Why are you defending him?" Then Beth's eyes narrowed at the brunette, as if realising something. "Wait a minute… it was you, wasn't it?"

Carla crossed her arms, frowning with confusion. "What was me?"

"You're the one Daniel's been sleeping with!"

Carla couldn't believe the audacity of her. "Are you off your head?!"

"It's no secret Daniel likes the older woman, and it's not like you two haven't been there before! So come on, was it?!"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then who was it?!"

Just as tensions threatened to spill over, Rob and Tracy appeared.

The already sombre atmosphere died completely. Everyone glared at the couple as they approached the bar. The looks of disdain became too much for Tracy. "We're not here to cause trouble, alright? We're here to pay our respects."

Peter laughed mockingly. "Respect? If you had even a shred of respect you wouldn't have shown your faces in here."

Rob gave a tired roll of his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, nice to see you too, Peter. A glass of red and a pint of bitter please, Johnny."

Johnny looked at his daughter as if seeking her permission on whether or not to serve them.

"Get daddy dearest to serve me would you sis?"

"I don't want any trouble," Johnny warned him.

"And there won't be any," said Carla. "Let him have his drink then he'll be on his way."

Johnny begrudgingly did as he was told. Peter's blood boiled as Rob received his ice-cold pint. Carla could feel the anger radiating off Peter and she tugged gently on his arm. "Listen, we've paid our respects so why don't we go home?"

But Peter was too stubborn to back down. "And let him drive me out of my own local? No way. Another orange juice when you're ready, Johnny."

If they were going to stick it out, Carla decided she would at least make an effort to be civil. She forced a smile at the couple. "So when did you two love birds get back in town?"

Tracy was hanging from Rob's neck like a hideous fashion accessory. She gazed up at him adoringly. "We got back this morning as it happens, didn't we, babe?"

"We sure did."

They kissed passionately and Carla pulled a face, looking away. Unable to help himself, Peter said, "So have you seen Steve yet, Trace? Remember Steve? The father of your kid? Also your husband?"

"Not yet," Tracy said, feeling a pang of guilt at the mention of her husband. "But Steve knows the score."

Peter shook his head at her. "You're a fool, you know that, Tracy?"

"Not as big a fool as my sister," Rob butted in. "Taking you back after the stuff you got up to when she was carrying your baby? Then again, you've always been a glutton for punishment, haven't you sis?"

Peter's nostrils flared and Carla squeezed his hardened bicep. "Don't rise to it."

"So what's the plan for you two then?" Peter asked, trying to keep his cool, not wanting Rob to see he'd gotten under his skin. "Are you going to move away somewhere? Two ex-cons starting a new life together? Sounds romantic to me."

"We rather like it here, don't we, babe?" said Tracy.

Rob grinned back at her. "We do indeed."

They kissed again and Peter stared at them, aghast. "Tell me you're joking?"

Tracy shrugged. "Well, why not?"

Any attempt at holding back his anger went flying out of the window. "Because, Tracy, in case you've forgotten, he killed Tina! Bashed her brains in on this very street!"

Appalled gasps came from punters and mourners alike.

Rob shook his head in a slow, belittling manner. "Even now, when he talks about her, it's still so passionate. I'd be careful if I were you, Carla. Sounds to me like he's still holding a candle."

"What did you say? You sick..." That was it. Peter snapped. He flew at Rob, shrugging off Carla's attempts to hold him back, and the two men squared up to each other. The tension between them was so thick it could be sliced with a knife. The whole pub was watching them, waiting for what would come next.

"Go on then, Peter," Rob said, unafraid. "Take a swing. Give it your best shot."

Peter wanted to. He really, really wanted to. The man who had murdered Tina and let him take the fall for it was standing right in front of him. This was his chance for revenge, to dish out some well-overdue justice of his own. If ever a punch in the face was justified, it was right here, right now.

"Come on, Peter," Rob goaded him. "What are you waiting for?"

"Peter, don't. It's what he wants," Carla pleaded from somewhere behind him.

Johnny clapped his hands, getting their attention. "That's enough lads! Remember where you are."

Peter's eyes briefly fell upon the booth where Sinead's family were looking at him with fear in their eyes. This was meant to be their day; a day to remember their daughter and celebrate her life. Daniel had already done his best to ruin it, Peter wouldn't cause further upset. He unclenched his fists and backed away. "Carla, get your coat. We're leaving."

* * *

That evening Ken called round the flat with Bertie. With Daniel missing in action, Peter and Carla had agreed to babysit for the night. Carla sat bouncing Bertie on her knee whilst Peter spoke quietly with his father in the doorway. "I just can't believe it of Daniel to have an affair," Ken was saying. "He always struck me as having such moral principles. Did he confide in you about it?"

"Yeah, he did," Peter admitted after a brief hesitation. "He told me the night Sinead died. But he swore me to secrecy. If I'd known he was going to say the stuff he did today, I would never…"

Ken patted his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself. But I have to ask, who was he having an affair with?"

Peter looked down at his feet. "It was…um…" God, he really didn't want to have to say it. "It was Bethany Platt."

"Bethany Platt?" Ken said it with the same ring of surprise Carla had when she'd found out. It took him a moment to recover. "Well, I suppose she's always been a troubled girl."

"Maybe so, but don't go spreading it around. That girl's been through enough without the likes of Beth Tinker gunning for her."

"Point taken. In other news, you'll never guess who showed up at my door this evening asking for a place to stay?" Ken didn't wait for him to hazard a guess before blurting out, "Tracy and Rob Donovan!"

"I hope you told them to get stuffed?"

"Of course I did. I won't have that man staying under my roof. Over my dead body."

"Good on you, dad. Any idea where they went?"

"No idea. But that's not my concern. Tracy's done some questionable things in her time but getting back with that man just about tops the lot. I'm sorry, Carla, I know he's your brother."

"It's fine, Ken. I feel the same way as you do."

Ken handed Peter Bertie's striped overnight bag. "Anyway, here you are. It's just a few essentials. Are you sure you're alright to look after him?"

"Of course we are, dad. Stop worrying."

"Hopefully it'll just be for tonight and Daniel will be back tomorrow. Have you heard from him?" Peter shook his head, and Ken sighed. "I'm really worried about him. It's not like him to take off, to abandon his son. Perhaps we should phone the police?"

"I think it's best we leave it for tonight, dad. Daniel's upset. He's probably blowing off steam somewhere."

"Peter's right," Carla said in an effort to reassure him. "After the stuff he said in church, he'll be wanting to keep a low profile until things settle down a bit."

"I hope so." Ken's worried gaze lingered on his grandson. Then he pulled himself together with a forced smile. "Well, I better be off. Claudia's got the dinner waiting. Call me if you hear anything."

Peter showed his father out then joined Carla on the sofa. After such an eventful day it was nice to finally take the weight off his feet. "What a day eh?"

Carla wasn't listening. Her attention was solely on the baby in her arms. "Look at his little hand, it's so tiny," she marvelled. "Strong though. He's got an iron grip, this one." She kissed Bertie's chubby cheek. Then all of a sudden her smile faded. "It's so sad, isn't it? He'll never know his mum."

"And if that's not bad enough, his dad's gone AWOL."

"Daniel will be back when he's good and ready. He might be a mess right now, but there's no way he'd leave this little lad."

"I hope you're right, love. I really do."

"I know I'm right," Carla said in a sing-song voice, brushing her nose against Bertie's. "I know I am."

It was fascinating watching her with a baby. Peter had seen glimpses of her maternal side with Simon and when she was pregnant, and seeing her now, he couldn't help but feel a great sense of injustice for the future they were robbed of. It should be their baby she was holding, not somebody else's. But his selfishness had well and truly ruined that future. He would always hold himself accountable for the death of their unborn child. He'd carry the guilt around with him forever.

Carla had noticed he'd gone quiet. "You alright, love?"

"Yeah, fine," he said, faking a smile, trying to hide the fact he'd suddenly become emotional. "I'm going to nip outside for a ciggy."

He stood on the balcony and stared in through the glass at Carla as she lifted Bertie above her head and blew kisses onto his belly, making him giggle. Suddenly tears were gushing down Peter's face. Get a grip, he told himself. No good ever came from pining for the past. But with Rob around, it seemed the past would be impossible to escape.

* * *

**Author's note: I should be back to posting a chapter every 2-3 days or so. If you're still interested in reading this, please let me know by leaving a review. Thanks.**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 – Baby Bonding

It was the morning after the funeral and there was still no word from Daniel. They agreed that if he hadn't got in touch by the end of the day, they would involve the police. For now though, it was business as usual. Well, not quite. Peter had left early for work which meant Carla was on babysitting duty. She'd never looked after a baby before and was feeling way out of her depth. She had taken on the likes of Tony Gordan and Frank Foster yet somehow she knew one morning with Bertie would be her greatest challenge yet.

His travel cot was in the spare room. Carla peered into it and saw him wide awake, wriggling about, smiling goofily up at her. "Morning handsome." As she lifted him into her arms, she immediately caught the whiff of something foul. "Whooh! I think someone needs changing."

It struck her that she was the only one around to do it.

She didn't have the first clue how to go about changing a nappy so she got some help off YouTube and followed the steps of the tutorial. She laid Bertie down on the bed and unbuttoned his jumpsuit. "Okay, here we go. Now, remember I'm new to all this so don't try anything funny. That means no peeing in my face. Got it?"

She took a deep breath before removing the nappy and the smell that hit her was nearly enough to knock her out. She turned her face away, gagging. "Christ alive! What the hell has Daniel been feeding you?!"

She had to take a minute to compose herself. "Come on, Carla, you're a strong independent woman, you can do this, it's just a bit of poo."

Holding her breath, she whipped off the nappy, disposing of it into a plastic bag like it was an explosive device.

All the while, Bertie was giggling at her.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

After securing a new nappy, it was time for a bottle feed. She sat rocking him on the sofa as he drank. Admittedly she was rather proud of herself. It wasn't even 10 o'clock yet and already she had nappy changing and bottle feeding nailed. Maybe this whole parenting business wasn't so bad after all?

Less than an hour later, and she was at the point of despair. She paced the bedroom rocking a screeching Bertie in her arms. "What's up with you eh? Why are you getting yourself so worked up? What is it you want?"

She had tried everything; his dummy, a bottle, mashed banana, a story, but nothing seemed to do the trick.

He was hysterical, utterly inconsolable.

Then an idea came to her. She fished Bertie's toy rabbit out of his overnight bag and waved it in front of him. "Look who it is," she said. "It's Mr Rabbit. Your mummy gave you this. It smells of her." Bertie's hand reached out, grabbing the toy. "That's right, you hold onto it."

As if by magic, the crying stopped.

Carla dropped onto the bed, exhausted. Never before had she been so grateful for the sound of silence. Bertie sat in her lap, happily chewing on the rabbit's ear. "Mr Rabbit's calmed you down, hasn't he? You were just missing your mummy weren't you kiddo?"

She sighed sadly and kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry I can't give her to you. I know I'm not as good at all this as she was, but I'm trying my best…so just give me a chance, eh?"

* * *

Rob stood outside the builder's yard, staring at the spot on the ground where Tina's body had been found. He could still hear her cries, her pleading with him to stop, and each relentless thwack of the metal bar as it beat against her skull.

How could he have done such a thing? Something so brutal, so cold-blooded? For the longest time he had tried to justify his actions, but now he realised there was no justifying what he had done. It was murder, plain and simple.

"You."

Rob turned his head and saw Rita hurtling towards him like a tornado. He had been dreading these kinds of confrontations but now that word had gotten out that he was back, he was bound to be getting a lot of them.

Rita stopped within a few feet of him, not daring to get too close. "What are you doing out? Why aren't you in prison?"

"There was a retrial," he told her simply. "They let me out."

"On what grounds?!"

"Evidence was tampered with by a senior investigator. A judge ruled it as inadmissible. They had no choice but to let me go."

Rita's entire body shook with rage. "No, that can't be! You're lying! I'm calling the police!"

"Call them. They'll just tell you the same thing."

Rita stopped rummaging through her handbag for her mobile and let out an exasperated cry. "Is there no justice in this world?! I don't know how you have the nerve to stand here. Brings it all back, does it? Do you still see her face at night? I hope it haunts you!"

Rita had been like a mother to Tina and Rob was finding it impossibly difficult to even look her in the eye. "Rita, I know it must be a shock seeing me again, but you have to know, I'm truly sorry for what happened."

"Sorry? You're sorry?! Rubbish! If you were truly sorry you would've served your time! You wouldn't have dared to show your face around here again!"

"That's kinda difficult considering he lives here now."

Rob closed his eyes as Tracy came marching over. "Leave it, Trace. For once in your life."

"That's kinda difficult considering he lives here now."

Rob closed his eyes as Tracy came marching over. "Leave it, Trace, for once in your life…"

"No, I won't leave it." She stood at his side and glared at Rita. "You listen up, grandma. Rob's a free man and can live wherever he likes, so you best get used to it."

Rita, feeling utterly powerless, burst into tears and hurried away. Rob watched her go with a sense of guilt he couldn't shake. "Take no notice of her," said Tracy. "She's a raddled old crone with far too much time on her hands. I bet she's loving the drama of it all."

"I told you not to get involved."

"What was I supposed to do, say nothing? I'm not having people berate you on the street, Rob! If you're serious about living here then you can't be walking on eggshells. Sometimes what people need is a short, sharp shock."

Rob's gaze returned to the spot on the ground. It lingered there long enough to unsettle Tracy who felt a sudden chill come over her. "Come on, let's go," she said, coaxing him away. "How about a nice spot of lunch, my treat?"

* * *

That afternoon Carla dropped Bertie off at Ken's as planned then headed to the Bistro to begin her shift. She greeted Peter behind the bar with a kiss then surveyed the light scattering of customers as she fastened her apron. "How's it been here?"

"Yeah, all pretty quiet. How was babysitting?"

She caught the smirk on his face as he said it.

"Let's just say we had our teething problems but by the end of it I'd mastered the art of nappy changing and bottle feeding, so, all in all, not too shabby."

Peter looked visibly impressed. "I've got to hand it to you, changing a nappy is no easy feat."

"No, it's flamin' not! I don't think I'll be doing it again either. The smell nearly finished me off!"

"With any luck, Daniel will be back tonight and you won't have to."

"Yeah, finger's crossed."

Carla noticed Peter scowling at something behind her and she turned and saw Rob and Tracy stood at the entrance. Rob had a smirk on his face as his eyes scanned over the near-empty restaurant. "I see business is booming. When Tracy told me you two were the owners I knew I had to come see it for myself."

Carla placed her hands on her hips. "If you've come here to cause trouble—"

"I've come for a table." Rob noticed Ryan slouched at the back of the bar and smiled. "Hey mate, how are you? Heard your mum's off sunning herself on some cruise."

Ryan looked unsure whether to speak to him. "I'm going to see if the chef needs a hand with anything," he said to Carla before escaping into the kitchen.

Tracy gave an impatient cough. "Any chance of someone showing us to a table or is it self-service now?"

Carla turned to Peter who was twitching with agitation. "I can serve them if it's easier."

"No, I'll do it." He grabbed two menus. "Don't worry, I'll bite my tongue."

"It's not your tongue I'm worried about," she called after him. "It's your temper."

Although his manner was frosty, Peter managed to seat them and take their order without any bloodshed. When it came to serving them their food, however, things kicked off massively. Rob cut into his steak and shook his head. "Nah, not happy with this. I said bloody. What part of this looks bloody to you, mate?"

Peter's fists clenched at his sides. Rob was really testing his patience. "Firstly, I'm not your mate. Don't ever call me that again. And secondly, it looks alright to me."

"Well, it's not. Take it back."

Rob pushed his plate away like a petulant child.

Tracy sighed. "Babe, can't you just eat it?"

"No, I can't. I want another one. Take it back."

But when Peter refused to do so, the pair ended up passing the plate back and forth between them like a game of hot potato.

"Take. It. Back!"

"There's nothing wrong with it!"

"I'm the customer, I'll decide that! Take it back!"

"No!"

_Crash!_

Rob stared down at his steak which was now on the floor. "Now look what you've done! Moron!"

A sea of red mist descended over Peter. He lunged forward, grabbing Rob by the collar of his shirt, and decked him in front of horrified diners. Ryan saw the commotion and ran into the kitchen to get Carla. She rushed out and wrestled Peter off her brother before he could land another punch. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"He started it!" Peter cried. "He was winding me up!"

"I don't want to hear it!" she snapped. "Go take your break and cool off. Now, Peter!"

Peter skulked away and Carla turned her attention to her brother who was holding a napkin to his bloodied nose. "I'm so sorry about that—"

Rob cut her off. "Save it! It should be him apologising, not you. Come on, Trace, we're leaving. We'll take our custom elsewhere."

Tracy stood up and shot Carla a look down her nose. "This place has really gone to the dogs. Expect a terrible review on Trip Advisor."

* * *

Peter returned to the bar after cooling off outside with a cigarette and Carla fixed him a bemused look. "You know, roughing up the clientele isn't exactly the height of professionalism."

"What can I say?" Peter shrugged. "He brings out the worst in me."

"That's a child's answer. When are you going to grow up, Peter?"

The pair were interrupted as Johnny burst through the double doors and collapsed at the bar. He was wide-eyed and panting heavily as if he'd run all the way from the pub. Carla eyed him with concern. "Johnny, what's wrong?"

"You mean you haven't heard?!"

"Heard what?" Peter asked.

Carla's stomach dropped like a heavy stone. "Oh God, please don't tell me something's happened to Daniel…"

"No, it's nothing like that! It's Gary! They've caught him! The police rang just now! Not that they needed to mind, it's all over the local news!"

Carla's first thought was of her sister. "Does Kate know?"

"I'm going to call her now, but I thought I'd come and tell you first." Johnny was smiling from ear to ear. "Now that scumbag can finally get what's coming to him, eh?"

Peter was quick to burst his bubble. "I wouldn't hold your breath. They're letting everyone out these days. He'll probably be out by teatime."

Carla fixed Peter a glare that didn't go unnoticed by Johnny who realised he'd come at a bad time. "I err left Jenny manning the bar so I should probably get back. Just thought I'd tell you the good news."

"Thanks for letting us know," said Carla. Once Johnny had left she turned to Peter. "When are you going to snap out of this silly mood of yours? With a face like that I should stick you in a field – you'll keep the crows away!"

Growling with annoyance, Peter gave an exaggerated smile. "This better?"

"It's a start. Now go take table three's order. And don't punch anyone this time!"

He gave a mock salute. "Yes Ma'am."

* * *

Carla finished up early and was on her way over to Ken's to pick up Bertie when Nick shouted over to her from the factory steps.

"Carla, hey!"

She gave a sigh of annoyance as he came jogging over. "If you've come to mouth off at me then save your breath because I've really had enough today."

He was taken aback by her biting tone. "Why would I want to mouth off at you?"

"Oh, I don't know, everything seems to be kicking off today."

"Someone seems a little stressed."

"A little? Try a lot."

He nodded towards the factory. "I was about to lock up for the night but how do you fancy coming in for a coffee? Plus I can give you a guided tour of the place."

She supposed she had a few minutes to spare. "Sure, why not."

They sat in the kitchen area, nursing their coffees. Carla hadn't set foot inside the factory since its refurbishment and it was strange seeing it all shiny and new. She barely recognised the place anymore and in a way it was kind of sad.

"So what do you think?"

"Very nice, yeah."

Nick laughed. "That sounded convincing. _Not."_

"I'm sorry. It's just a little weird being back here again after all this time, you know?"

Nick's eyes rounded with sympathy. "Yeah, I know. It's funny though, isn't it? Me here and you working over the road. We've basically swapped jobs."

She laughed. "I hadn't thought of it like that, but yeah, I suppose we have." She blew on her coffee before taking a sip. "I'm glad things are working out for you, Nick. You seem to be doing a much better job of running this place than I ever did."

"Don't put yourself down. You were a great boss. A bit of a dragon—"

"Cheeky git."

"But great." They both laughed a little then Nick's expression sobered as he studied her carefully. "So what's got you all stressed out?"

Carla groaned. "It all kicked off in the bistro with Rob and Peter."

"I heard Rob was back. How's that even allowed after what he did?"

"It's just one of the many injustices of our justice system, Nicholas. Anyway, Rob was winding Peter up, which, let's face it, isn't hard to do, then Peter decked him, making a complete show of himself in front of the customers…" She sighed heavily. "I don't know, Nick. Just when you think things are starting to settle down, eh?"

"I can't imagine it's been an easy few weeks in your household what with Sinead's passing and now all this business with Rob. Has Daniel come back yet?"

"Still no sign of him."

"Bethany's beside herself with worry. She thinks it's all her fault that Daniel's gone off the rails."

Carla frowned at him. "Wait a minute… so you know?"

"About Bethany and Daniel? Yeah, she told me. Well, technically Sarah did, but that's splitting hairs."

Carla's finger circled the rim of her coffee cup. "I always thought it was weird that Bethany packed her job in at the bistro. I guess now I know why."

"She thinks it's all her fault that Daniel's gone off the rails," Nick explained. "She reckons the guilt of the affair's pushed him over the edge."

"Tell her to stop being so hard on herself. What she and Daniel did was wrong but they're just kids. Lord knows I've done a heck of a lot worse in my time."

She was waiting for Nick to say 'Like what? Sleeping with the chef?' but they were past all that now.

In an effort to change the subject, Nick asked, "Have you heard about Gary?"

"Yeah, Johnny told me."

"At least that gives us closure on one thing."

Carla raised her coffee mug in celebration. "I'll drink to that."

"Still, it must be hard with all this Rob and Daniel stuff going on. How are you and Peter doing?"

"We've decided to postpone the wedding."

"I see..." Nick wasn't quite sure how to respond. Once upon a time Carla and Peter's misery would have delighted him. But not anymore. He scratched his head. "I mean, it's probably for the best with everything that's going on."

Carla closed her eyes and decided to open up about what was really bothering her. "It's just with Rob back on the scene, it's dredging up all that ugly history and it's eating away at Peter more than he lets on. It's eating at both of us actually."

Nick reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. The gesture no longer held any romantic implications, they both knew where they stood on that, but it was still one of great affection. "Well, if you ever need to talk, or rant, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Nick. I'm glad we can be like this again."

He smiled. "Me too."

* * *

It was late when Peter finished up at the bistro. He was on his way home when he spotted Rob coming out of the corner shop. It was dark and there was no one else about. Rob was busy talking on the phone, oblivious to Peter's presence. Peter decided to follow him.

When Rob hung up the phone, Peter saw the perfect moment to strike. He came at Rob from behind, shoving him into the ginnel and pinned him against the wall by his throat. "I want you gone," Peter growled. "Forget about Carla, forget about Tracy, forget about Weatherfield. I want you out of here and out of our lives for good. Do I make myself clear?"

Rob didn't look afraid, only amused. "And if I refuse?"

Peter tightened his hold on his neck, snarling as he did so. "I'll kill you."

Rob shoved him off with surprising strength and straightened out his collar. He got right up close in Peter's face, matching his stare, not the least bit scared. "Your threats don't work on me. I see you for what you are. A lying, cheating alchy on the wrong side of fifty. My sister's better off without you. And I'm going to make sure she sees it."

He pushed Peter aside.

At the end of the ginnel, Rob looked back at Peter with a sly smile. "Oh, and just for the record, I'm going nowhere. So you best get used to it."

* * *

Peter arrived at the flat and was surprised to see his teenage son sat with his feet up on the couch. "Si, what are you doing here?"

Simon looked up from his phone. "Me and mum had a row so I'm stopping here for the night. Carla said it's fine."

"Yeah, course it is, it's just great to see you that's all. I feel like we hardly spend any time together these days." Peter joined him on the sofa and wrapped an arm around him. "So are you going to tell me what this row was about?"

Simon slipped his phone into his pocket, and Peter knew whatever was going on had to be serious if Simon was willing to part with his phone. "It was my fault," Simon admitted with a sigh. "I got upset because Rob's back. Mum told me to calm down and I lashed out."

Peter nodded slowly. "When you say lashed out…do you mean verbally? Or physically?"

Simon pulled away from him. "Verbally!"

"Alright, alright, I'm just checking."

With Simon's history of violence, Peter couldn't be too careful.

"I'm just mad he's out," Simon said. "Why should he get to walk the streets when Tina's dead? It's not fair."

"No mate, it's not."

"I miss her."

Peter knew how much Simon adored Tina and how deeply her death had affected him. Simon had suffered so many losses at such a young, impressionable age that sometimes Peter wondered if that's what had caused his wayward behaviour and violent outbursts.

Peter pulled him close. "I know you do, son. I know."

Carla came out of the bedroom having put Bertie to bed. "What are you two nattering about then?"

"Oh, just school stuff," Simon said quickly, knowing better than to bring Tina up in front of Carla.

"Bad day was it, Si?" He nodded and she ruffled his hair curly hair. "Join the club."

She sat down beside Peter who shot her a look of apology. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have let him get to me."

"It's forgotten," she said quickly. Then she smiled. "Si, why don't you pick us a film to watch and I'll order us a takeaway. Is Chinese still your favourite?"

Simon cracked the first smile of the evening. "I'm defo staying here more often!"

The lights were dimmed, boxes of takeaway lay on the coffee table, as well as a giant bottle of coke. The three of them sat huddled on the sofa, eyes glued to the flashing screen.

"Love, if you squeeze my hand any tighter it'll drop off."

"It's Simon's fault!" Carla shot a glare at the teenager. "Why couldn't you have picked something nice for a change? I hate horror films!"

Simon chuckled. "Then look away now because she's about to get ripped in half by a chainsaw."

Carla grabbed the nearest pillow and hid behind it as a woman's screams played at a deafening volume. "Is it over?"

"You can look now, love."

Carla poked her head out from behind the pillow, and Simon laughed. "Who knew you were such a scaredy-cat?"

"I am not!"

"Yes you are!"

Carla launched the pillow at him. "I am so not!"

"Alright, settle down you two," said Peter who was sandwiched between the bickering pair. "We'll lose track of what's going on in a minute."

Once the movie was over it was time for bed. Simon was in the spare room and Bertie was in with Carla and Peter. His travel cot was perched at the foot of the bed. Carla stood over it, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

"Is he asleep?" Peter asked.

"He's sparko."

She joined Peter under the covers and snuggled close to him. He wrapped a tattooed arm around her and kissed her softly. "Thanks for tonight. For making an effort with Si."

"Don't make it sound like a hardship. I love the bones of that kid, you know that."

Peter pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "Shh. Listen."

Carla listened to the quiet of the room, not exactly sure what she was meant to be listening out for, and then she heard it; the soft in and out of Bertie's breathing.

"Aww, it's adorable," she gushed.

"A right proper family set up we've got going here. Who'd have thought it eh?"

Carla rolled her eyes, trying not to smile, and switched off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in darkness. "Night."

"Night, love."

* * *

**Author's note: The characters are going to go through a lighter period, but I promise you, there's plenty more drama to come! **

**On a completely different note, anyone else getting annoyed with how little we've seen of Carla and Peter on the show lately? I can't remember the last time they shared a scene together. I swear they had more scenes together when they weren't actually together (ironic as that is). Most of the time I don't bother watching because I know they're not going to be in it, and if they are, it's like a blink and you'll miss it scene. Really hope this changes soon. **

**As always, if you're enjoying, please show your appreciation by dropping a review. Thanks :) **


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 – Coffee Date 

Message received at 1:54 am: Hi, it's me... Sorry for going off the grid. I know you're all worried, but don't be, I'm fine. I just needed to get away for a while, sort a few things out in my head. You're probably wondering when I'll be back. The truth is, I don't know. I know that's not much to go on but it's the best I can do right now. Give Bertie a kiss from me. I'm sorry.

End of Message.

Carla handed the phone back to Peter with a sigh. "Well, at least we know he's alive. That's something, I guess."

"It's been two weeks, Carla. Two weeks! And all we get is a voicemail. We're here looking after his kid and he can't even be bothered to tell us when he's coming back!"

"Keep your voice down." Carla gave a pointed nod to Bertie in his highchair. She drained the last of her coffee from the cup then fed Bertie another spoonful of mashed banana. Most of it ended up down his chin rather than in his mouth and she laughed, wiping it away with his bib. "You're a messy little guy, aren't you? Just like your uncle Peter."

They had been looking after Bertie for two weeks and in that time Carla had grown incredibly attached. It warmed Peter's heart and broke it at the same time because he knew the longer they spent with him, the harder it was going to be to give him back when Daniel did eventually return.

That afternoon they went for a walk around the park. On their way back they bumped into Tracy and Rob outside of Victoria Court. Peter nudged Carla at their approach. "Look, love, it's the two murderers out for an afternoon stroll."

"And it's the two alkies playing happy families to someone else's kid."

Tracy laughed. "I'd be careful if I were you, Peter. She won't want to give that baby back to Daniel."

That evening as Peter was preparing the dinner, he couldn't stop thinking about what Tracy had said. If even Tracy could see Carla was getting too attached then it couldn't all be in his head. Perhaps it was time to put some healthy distance between them.

Carla sat on the rug playing with some toy bricks with Bertie. " I was thinking of taking laddo swimming tomorrow," she called over to him. "There's a mum and baby learn to swim class going on. Could be fun. Then again, the thought of me in a bikini, not so fun… What do you reckon?"

"Actually, love, I said Beth and Kirk could have him for the day."

"Oh. You never said."

"Well, they want to do their bit to help out. And we've had him all this time. I thought maybe it might be good for us to, you know, have a bit of space."

Carla headed over to the kitchen and stood before him, arms folded and eyebrow arched. "This is about what Tracy said, isn't it? You think I'm getting too attached."

"No," he said, trying desperately to backpedal. "I just think it would be good for us to have some time to ourselves."

Carla wasn't buying it. "Peter, I know he's not mine. I know that. I'm not trying to replace Sinead or anything like that—"

"Oh, of course not. I never meant—"

"But is it really so strange that I'm taking an interest? That I care? I might not be his mum but I' m still his family, aren't I?"

"And I love that you're taking an interest, I really do, it's just…" He sighed heavily. "I just don't want to see you get your heart broken."

"I won't," she snapped defensively. "I'm well aware this is only temporary. As soon as Daniel's back I'll happily hand him over. In fact, I'll be glad for the peace and quiet."

Peter had been left to tidy up after dinner. Carla was putting Bertie to bed. She had been gone a while and Peter went to check on her. He peered in through the crack in the door and saw Carla lying on the bed, Bertie snuggled in her arms, reading him a bedtime story. Peter listened in with a smile. She could deny it all she liked but he knew; she had fallen in love.

* * *

The next morning Peter was running late for work and was shovelling spoonful's of cereal into his mouth. Carla sat across from him in her dressing gown, feeding Bertie in his highchair. "You know what day it is today, don't you?" At Peter's blank expression she elaborated, "It's Gary's verdict."

Peter swallowed a greedy mouthful. "Blimey, that came around quick. Then again, it's a pretty clear-cut case. They'll throw away the key, love."

He stood, grabbing his briefcase, and kissed her goodbye. "Right, you two enjoy your swim class and I'll see you both later."

He hurried towards the door when her questioning tone stopped him in his tracks. "Swim class?"

He turned back to her. "I thought you said you were taking him to that class now Beth and Kirk have bailed out?"

"Nope. Cancelled it."

"How come?" he said, sounding disappointed. "I thought you were really looking forward to it."

"I was, but I didn't want to appear to be getting too attached now, did I?"

She was still sulking about yesterday, he realised. "Oh come on, love, don't be like that. What are you going to do instead then? You've got the whole day off."

"I'm meeting Nick for coffee this afternoon if you must know."

The very name sent pangs of jealousy rippling through Peter. He frowned. "Nick? Nick Tilsley?"

"Is there an echo in here?"

"You're meeting Nick Tilsley for coffee?"

"Well, I say coffee, it's really more of a playdate for Bertie and Oliver."

"They're too young for playdates. And since when did you and Nick meet for coffee?"

Carla tilted her head up at him, clearly loving how riled he'd become, "Oh dear, is the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head?"

"I'm sorry if the thought of you going for coffee with your ex-husband makes me the slightest bit uncomfortable."

"Don't make it sound weird. We're just mates, that's all. And Bertie and Oliver are practically family so we thought it would be nice for them to hang out."

Although Peter had buried the hatchet with Nick after the whole Gary debacle, they weren't and never would be friends. The thought of Nick hanging out with Carla in any capacity made Peter twitch with jealousy.

"Aren't you going to be late for work?"

"Work can wait." Peter knew he was acting like a child but he couldn't help himself. "Does Leanne know about this playdate?"

Carla shrugged. "That's Nick's prerogative."

"Because I reckon she wouldn't be too pleased about it either. In fact, I know she wouldn't."

"You and Leanne take Simon out for his tea all the time and I don't bat an eye. So what's the difference?"

"The difference is I don't trust Nick."

"Then it's a good job you trust me, isn't it?" Carla fed Bertie another spoonful of banana. "You better get a move on or you'll set a bad example to the others."

* * *

That afternoon Carla called round the Platt's with Bertie. She sat out in the garden, bouncing Bertie on her knee. Further down the garden Oliver and Harry were playing in the sandbox. Carla watched them with a smile before returning her gaze to Nick. He sat across from her, distracted by his phone in his lap. She coughed to get his attention. "Flamin' heck, you're worse than me with that thing, Tilsley."

"Sorry," he said, setting it aside. "Sarah just texted me the verdict."

"And?"

"Guilty."

"Well, no surprises there then."

"I can't say I feel too sorry for the guy," said Nick. "He brought it all of himself and ruined a lot of lives in the process. Anyway, enough about that lowlife, what's the latest on Daniel?"

"He left a voicemail on Peter's phone late last night just to say he's alive and doesn't know when he'll be back."

"Oh, how thoughtful of him. Takes off without warning then leaves you in the lurch with his kid."

Carla felt the need to defend Daniel. "He is grieving, we should probably cut him some slack. And if I'm honest, I've enjoyed having this little one around." She laughed, "And that's not something I ever thought I'd say."

Nick smiled at the baby nestled in her arms. "You two seem quite inseparable. I've got to admit it's a little strange seeing you with a baby. A good strange. I always knew you'd make a good mum."

His words, though well-meaning, offended Carla. "Except I'm not his mum though, am I?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset…"

She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. It's just Peter's worried I'm getting too attached. I don't know, maybe he's right. These past few weeks looking after him, I've grown to like having him around more than I should probably admit to."

"That's only natural. I mean, look at me and Oliver. He's not mine by blood but he is in every other sense."

There was such pride in Nick's voice whenever he spoke of Oliver and Carla couldn't help but smile. "I'm glad you've got him, Nick. I know how much you wanted to be a dad, to have a family of your own… and now you've got one."

Sarah appeared in the doorway dressed in formal attire. Harry dropped his bucket and spade and ran to her. She lifted him up into her arms and kissed him. "Hiya darling."

"I take it you've come back from court?" Carla asked in way of greeting. "How was it?"

Sarah gave a weary sigh. "It was tough. Gary collapsed in the stand when they read the verdict. Had to be dragged away. It was horrible to watch."

Carla remembered the conflicting emotions she'd felt when Peter had been found guilty of Tina's murder. She remembered that sinking feeling in her stomach when the verdict was read out, that feeling of total helplessness and despair, that the man she had once loved was going away forever…

Sarah would be feeling all of that.

Nick, on the other hand, was far from sympathetic. "Well you know what they say, if you don't want to do the time, don't do the crime."

There was a figure standing behind Sarah in the doorway. Carla smiled. "Bethany, I didn't see you there. How are you?"

Sarah stepped aside, forcing Bethany into view. The usually bubbly, vivacious girl looked timid and afraid as she stared down at the floor. "I'm alright."

"I meant after everything with Daniel?"

Bethany's head snapped up and her big blue eyes widened with panic. "How do you know about that?" she asked Carla. Then she shot a hateful glare at her uncle. "Did you tell her?"

"Nick didn't breathe a word," Carla assured her. "Daniel told Peter and Peter told me. Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. And I'm not judging you, I'd be a hypocrite if I were. I just wanted to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

Sarah brought a protective arm around her daughter. "You're getting there, aren't you babe. She's actually thinking about going travelling with some mates to get away for a bit aren't you darling?"

"That sounds like a great idea," enthused Carla. "That's what Kate's done and she's having the time of her life."

Bethany wriggled out of her mother's embrace. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

Sarah watched her daughter go with a sense of helplessness. "Alright, darling. Just shout if you need anything."

Sarah put Harry down and he ran back to the sandbox. She joined Carla and Nick at the table and grinned at the pair of them. "It's nice to see you two getting along for a change." There came a pause, then a sigh. "Carla listen… I know what Bethany did with Daniel was wrong and belie me, I've laid into her about it, but you have to promise me you'll keep her name out of this. Think of all the backlash she'll get if people find out it was her Daniel was playing away with. I don't think she could handle it."

"Sarah, I won't breathe a word. I think enough grief's been caused, don't you? Hopefully Daniel will be home soon and this whole sorry mess can be put to bed once and for all."

* * *

It was an uneventful afternoon in the bistro. Peter stood behind the bar with nothing much to do except fixate on Carla and her playdate with Nick Tilsley. Peter didn't think he'd ever be used to the fact they had once been a couple. He couldn't imagine them together, being in love. It made him shudder just thinking about it. Of all the men she could have gone for, why did she have to fall for him?

He knew Carla had only told him about the playdate to wind him up, to get back at him for what he'd said about her and Bertie. He had tried desperately not to fall for the bait but his jealousy was all-consuming.

"You've had a face like a slapped backside all day. What's wrong with you?"

Peter looked over at Ryan and shrugged, "Nothing's wrong with me, I'm fine."

Ryan smirked. "Lover's tiff is it?"

"Do you ever mind your own business?"

"Not when I'm bored, no. Take it from me, Carla loves a few fireworks. You should've seen her with my uncle Paul. She was always kicking off about something or other. So whatever you've done, just buy her some flowers, tell her you're sorry, that's it's all your fault, and life will be peachy again. Trust me."

"Thanks for the advice but for your information Dr Phil, we've not fallen out."

"Then what's with the face like thunder?"

Peter decided to come out with it. "She's meeting Nick Tilsley for coffee. Nick flamin' Tilsley."

He looked at Ryan, hoping he would share in his outrage, but Ryan just looked confused. "So?"

"Well don't you think it's weird? Hanging out with your ex?"

"Why exactly is she meeting him for coffee? Is it a social thing or…?"

"It's a playdate for the kids. Or so she says."

Ryan was bordering on laughter by this point. "You can't seriously think there's something going on? Mate, you're tapped."

Just when Peter thought his day couldn't possibly get any worse, in walked Rob. He swaggered up to the bar with an annoying grin. "What's all this? You feeling a bit jealous, Peter?"

"Why don't you crawl back under your rock?"

"I don't blame you for being jealous," said Rob. "Nick's a decent bloke and from what I've heard he and my sister made quite the power couple back in the day. For starters he never cheated on her, never kept her up all night while he was out boozing or bunking up with the babysitter. Can't say I'd blame Carla for wanting back over his side of the fence."

"You know what, Rob, I can't be doing with this today. Just get out."

"Truth hurts, doesn't it, Peter?"

"I'm serious, Rob. Sling your hook. You're barred."

Rob scoffed, outraged. "You can't bar me!"

"Last time I checked I owned this bar, so yes, I think you'll find I can. Now do one before I throw you out."

* * *

Bertie was asleep in the spare room and the two of them sat eating dinner in silence. There was a palpable tension as Peter watched Carla with envious eyes. "So," he began. "How was your playdate with Nick?"

Carla swallowed her forkful. "It was very nice, thank you."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Try telling your face that."

It went quiet again and all that could be heard was the scraping of cutlery and the tick of the clock.

"So what did you talk about?"

Peter couldn't help himself. He needed to know every last detail of their cosy catch up.

"The verdict mostly," Carla said. "He brought up Daniel so we talked about that. And the boys, obviously."

They sure managed to cram a lot in, Peter thought to himself.

He smiled but it came out as more of a grimace. "Well, isn't it great you're getting along so well?"

Carla lowered her knife and fork with a sigh. "Peter, have you heard yourself? For the last time, we're just mates. Wouldn't you rather us be civil to each other than tear chunks out of each other every time we cross in the street?"

"There's a big difference between being civil and going round for coffee."

"Fine, seeing as it bothers you so much, I won't do it again. But it was nice to do something with the boys. It would be nice to think you trusted me."

"It's not you I don't trust, love. It's him."

Carla threw her head back in laughter. "You can't seriously think Nick would try it on with me? He's smitten with Leanne, even a blind man can see that! And what's more, I'm smitten with you. Me and Nick are ancient history. It's you I'm marrying so give that suspicious mind of yours a rest eh?"

After dinner Carla was washing the dishes when a pair of muscular arms settled around her waist. She closed her eyes at the feel of a soft kiss on her neck. "Sorry for being a jerk. I know nothing's going on."

"Hallelujah!" She turned to face him and draped her arms over his shoulders. "Although… I've got to admit, it was kind of a turn on seeing you get all jealous."

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh."

They started to kiss passionately and Peter lifted her onto the countertop. Before things could get too heated Carla broke away and looked deeply into his eyes. In a moment of rare vulnerability, she asked, "You do know I love you, don't you?"

The teasing had stopped and suddenly things had gotten serious. Peter reached for her hand and kissed the diamond ring on her finger. "I know."

He said it with absolute certainty.

With the reassurance she needed, Carla's smile returned. "Good. I'm glad we got that out the way. Now, after all that sulking I'd say you've got some making up to do, mister."

His brow raised suggestively. "Is that so?"

"But if you're not feeling up to it I can always give Nick a call, I'm sure he'd be up for it if—"

"Oi! Come 'ere you!" She squealed as he carried her off into the bedroom, determined to make her forget all about Nick Tilsley.

* * *

**Author's note: Thank you everybody who reviewed the last chapter. Your words of encouragement really inspire me to keep writing. A lot of work goes into this and it's nice to know it's appreciated, so thanks. **

**I hope this story, and the many other wonderful ones out there, are helping you through the carter drought. **

**If there's anything in particular you'd like to see happen, let me know and I'll try to include it. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 - Baby Talk 

Carla woke from a pleasant dream entangled in Peter's arms. She laid soft kisses on his chest, stirring him awake, and he smiled lazily down at her. "Morning handsome," she said.

He stretched his arms above his head and yawned loudly. "What time is it?"

"Why? Is someone feeling a bit worn out after last night?"

He grinned at the playful look on her face. "Can you blame me?"

"It was fun though, wasn't it?"

"Damn right it was," he said. "Didn't hear you complaining much either."

"Well, from what I can remember there wasn't a lot of talking going on."

They started kissing and Peter rolled Carla onto her back, pinning her down by her wrists. He maneuvered himself on top of her when the baby monitor went off with a sudden screech. Carla closed her eyes, sighing with disappointment. "Typical…"

"Just ignore it. He'll stop in a minute."

But the crying continued to the point it became impossible to ignore. Peter let out a growl of frustration. "I better go see what his highness wants…" He rolled out of bed and slipped on a pair of boxers before leaving the room. He returned moments later with Bertie. The infant's deafening cries pierced the room. "I think he's perforated an eardrum," Peter winced.

Carla sat up in bed, wrapping the sheet around herself to cover her modesty. "Give him here."

Peter settled Bertie in her arms and as if by magic the crying stopped. Peter stared, amazed. "Seriously, how do you do that? What's your secret?"

She shrugged. "What can I say? It's my baby superpowers. Hey, there's a thought. Maybe I could be the next super nanny. I'd have them kids sorted in no time."

Peter wondered for the millionth time how he'd gotten so lucky. He liked the set up they had here with Bertie and he didn't want it to end.

But end it would.

That night he returned from the bistro and found Daniel in the flat with Carla. Daniel looked like he had spent the last couple of weeks sleeping rough. He wore the same crumpled suit he'd worn to Sinead's funeral and his face was barely visible under the unruly beard that grew there. Peter couldn't stop staring. "Daniel… what are you doing here? When did you get back?"

"About ten minutes ago," Carla answered for him.

"I'm sorry for running off like I did," said Daniel. "But I needed to get my head together. I hope you understand. But I'm all better now, ready to face the world again, and see my son." His eyes searched around the flat. "So where is he then?"

"He's asleep in his cot," Carla informed him. "I'll go get him for you."

She disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the brothers alone to talk.

"So where have you been all this time?"

"I crashed at a mate's place from uni."

"Oh, I see, so you've been partying, have you? Living it up with your mates?"

"I've been trying to make sense of things!" exclaimed Daniel. "Don't you dare lecture me, not with the amount of times you've abandoned Simon over the years!"

They stopped arguing as Carla appeared with Bertie. Daniel rushed over and took him into his arms. "Hey buddy, it's me, it's daddy. I've come back. I've missed you so much."

Daniel smiled gratefully at the couple. "Thanks for looking after him. I know I shouldn't have left him, but I promise it won't happen again. From now on, I'll be there for him."

"I'll go grab his stuff," Carla said and quickly excused herself.

She returned with a bag of Bertie's things and Peter could tell she'd been crying. She handed the bag to Daniel, feigning a smile as she did so. "I couldn't fit everything in so you'll have to come back for the rest of his stuff tomorrow."

"Thanks," Daniel said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. He bounced Bertie in his arms and kissed his chubby cheek. "Right then little man, let's get you home."

Almost an hour after they'd left and Carla hadn't said a word. She sat on the sofa with a bereft look about her. Peter couldn't ignore it any longer. "You okay, love? You've been very quiet."

The question snatched her from her thoughts. "Have I? I guess I'm just taking in the silence. I keep expecting the baby monitor to go off. This place seems so empty now it's just the two of us. I don't know what to do with myself." Her words cast a shadow but she quickly shrugged it off. "On the plus side at least now I'll be able to get a decent night's kip. That's not something I've done in a while."

She chuckled but her laughter sounded hollow and forced.

Peter closed the paper he'd been pretending to read and came and sat beside her. "It's okay to be sad, you know."

At this, she grew defensive. "Sad? I'm not sad. Why would I be sad?"

"You know why."

"We knew the score," she said, refusing to show weakness. "What we had with Bertie was only for a little while. Today was always going to happen."

"True," Peter nodded. "But it doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

He reached for her hand but she pulled away and got to her feet. "I've got a headache. I'm going to take a nap."

The next hour Peter spent in front of the telly. He wasn't paying attention to what was happening on the screen, he was too busy thinking about Carla and how quiet it all was. It felt wrong to be sat around doing nothing when there was a baby to tend to. Then he remembered there was no longer a baby and the sadness set in all over again.

The bedroom door creaked open and Carla appeared in her dressing gown. Her hair was knotted into a bun and she had washed all the makeup off her face. Either that or cried it off. Peter wasn't sure which. He switched off the telly and looked at her. "How's the headache?"

"I didn't have one," she admitted quietly, her voice hoarse. "I just needed a bit of time to myself."

As she came walking over, Peter noticed she had something in her arms. A shoebox. She sat down next to him and rested the box on her lap. She removed the lid and he saw inside it. There was a teddy bear, a folded baby grow, a tiny pair of shoes, a woolly hat, a crumpled piece of paper, and a scan photo dated May 12th, 2014.

"You were right about Bertie," she said. "I got too attached. Letting him go was harder than I thought it was going to be."

"Oh, sweetheart…"

"It's the little things, you know? Bath times, the walks in the park, tucking him in at night, reading him stories…I'll miss it. Is that daft?"

"It's not daft at all."

She began rifling through the shoebox. "Look at all this stuff…"

She held up a baby grow with the tags still on. "I used to go into shops and see the most adorable little outfits. I'd ended up buying the matching shoes and hat because it was too cute to resist. I couldn't have my baby in any old swaddling cloth. Oh no, it had to be all designer. Only the best for my little one."

She folded the baby grow and set it neatly back in the box. She reached for a crumpled piece of paper that had a list of names on it. "Daisy, Juliet, Grace, Evie… I liked Evie. I think she would've been an Evie. I guess we'll never know what she would've been, will we?"

With a heavy sigh, she placed the paper back in the box and closed the lid.

"I had no idea you'd kept all this stuff."

"I know you're not to supposed to hold onto things that make you sad but I couldn't bring myself to let it go. So I put it all in this box. I only found it when we were moving things into the flat." Her eyes welled with tears. "I think part of the reason I got so attached to Bertie was because being with him reminded me of what we could've had, you know, with our baby girl. That's what I was holding onto, the memory of her, not him. Does that make any sense?"

Peter didn't trust himself to speak so he nodded his head. The weeks of watching Carla with Bertie had given him a glimpse into what their life could have been if their baby girl had lived, if he hadn't ruined it all by having that stupid affair with Tina. He wanted to apologise all over again. If he could go back and do things differently, he would be the best husband and father ever. But he couldn't change the past nor erase the hurt he'd caused. All he could do now was try and mend the broken pieces.

"Maybe…" He stopped himself as nerves got the better of him.

Carla wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Maybe what?"

He swallowed nervously and tried again. "You're going to think I'm completely mad for saying this but… maybe we should think about having a kid of our own?"

The look on her face wasn't quite what he'd been hoping for. He couldn't tell if it was shock or horror, or both. She blinked like she'd been blinded by a bright light. "You want to try for another baby?"

"Would it really be the worst thing in the world? I mean, look how you've been with Bertie. You've been great. We've been great." He smiled. "We can do this, I know we can."

"Peter, I…"

"You don't have to say anything right now," he assured her softly. "Just promise me you'll think about it."

* * *

**Author's note: I really wish Carla and Peter would have a conversation about their baby girl in the show, just one little conversation to gain some closure on the whole thing. We can hope, right? **


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's note: Thanks for all the lovely reviews. I didn't have a lot of time to go over this chapter so apologies for any mistakes.**

* * *

Chapter 20 - And They Call It...

"Morning gorgeous, it's bacon and eggs on the menu. Grab a pew and I'll bring our coffees over in just a sec."

"This is all very nice," Carla said, taking a seat. "What's all this in aid of?"

"Can't a bloke do something for the woman he loves without there being an ulterior motive?"

Of course, Carla knew there was an ulterior motive. Peter sat down with their coffees and she could feel his eyes watching her as she tucked into her breakfast. "So," he began and already she knew what he was about to say. "Have you given any more thought to what we talked about last night? You know, us having a little kiddie of our own?"

"Oh, _that."_ She pretended as though it had innocently slipped her mind when really she'd thought about nothing else all night. "I have actually, and the answer's no."

The hopeful smile on Peter's face crumbled like a landslide. "But what about all the things you said last night about Bertie and missing our baby girl? I thought you—"

"Last night I was emotional and got carried away with myself," she said, cutting him off. "Besides, we're not spring chickens, having a kid out our age is ridiculous. We had our chance and it wasn't meant to be so can we please just leave it at that." She looked up to see he had stopped eating. He was looking at her like a kicked puppy. But she refused to let it sway her. "Come on, eat up, food's getting cold."

* * *

They walked hand in hand down the cobbled street, determined to appear a united front despite not having said a word to each other since breakfast. They spotted Daniel coming out of No.1 with the pushchair. Peter stopped to say hello but Carla hurried him along. "Come on, we're going to be late."

In the bistro things remained tense between the couple. Despite working behind the same bar, they somehow managed to avoid each other, only speaking when it was about table orders. That afternoon Peter got called away to a meeting in town. Carla had gone to kiss him goodbye but he coldly slipped past her and left without so much as an 'I'll see you later'.

An hour after he'd gone and Carla was still reeling from his rejection. She knew he was still sulking about this morning. If he thought giving her the cold shoulder would get her to change her mind about having a baby then he had another thing coming. She didn't want a baby and that was that, end of story.

Nick entered the bistro, briefcase in hand, and sat himself at the bar. Carla greeted him with a warm smile. "Afternoon, Nicholas. What can I get you?"

"This is so weird," he said. "It should be me serving you, not the other way around."

"Well enjoy it. What can I get you?"

"Just a lime and soda, please. I'm meeting a client here for lunch and I'd like to keep my wits about me."

"Ooh, which client?"

"Dave Hanlon."

"Ah yeah, you'll definitely need your wits around him. He's a slippery fish is Hanlon."

"Don't I know it," laughed Nick. "I still remember the time he tried to blag a free meal from this place."

"That's Hanlon for you. Always cutting corners. Still, he's always brought good business our way so you'll just have to grin and bear him."

Nick took out a bunch of papers from his briefcase. "I've drawn up this contract but I'm worried he's going to rip it to pieces."

Carla handed him his drink and nodded to the empty booth in the corner. "Why don't you grab us a seat and I'll read over it for you for my expert eyes?"

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I'm hardly rushed off my feet," she said, gesturing to the sparse sprinkling of customers. "Besides, my bistro, my rules. Go on, sit down, I'll be with you in just a tick."

At the table Carla cast her eyes over the contract and studied it in her usual meticulous fashion. "All looks good to me," she said, sliding it back to him. "Your units are fairly priced, Hanlon can't complain. And if he does, send him my way, I'll soon set him straight."

"I might hold you to that," Nick chuckled before changing the subject. "So I hear Daniel got back last night. What did he have to say for himself?"

"Not a lot," said Carla. "He was staying with a mate from uni."

Nick looked far from impressed. "Well at least he's back, that's the main thing. I just hope he's paying you for all those weeks of babysitting."

"I didn't mind that bit so much."

Detecting a hint of longing in her voice, he asked, "How is it not having Bertie around?"

"It's quiet."

He laughed. "Most people would be glad for the peace and quiet."

"It's too quiet."

Nick quirked his brow at her, a smirk appearing on his face. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone's broody."

"Oh, not you as well! I've had all this from Peter. Just because I survived a few weeks of night feeds and nappy changing, does not mean I want to go for mother of the year."

"Why not?"

"Where do you want me to start? Babies are messy, smelly, they cry all the time, they're sick down your shirt, they need constant love and attention… need I go on?"

Nick's grin got bigger. "You know what I think?"

"I don't read tea leaves and gaze into crystal balls for a living Nick, so no."

"I think you're scared."

She sat up at the accusation, folding her arms defensively. "Scared?"

"That what happened last time will happen again."

She might not have been a mind reader but it seemed Nick Tilsley was. "Who's to say it won't? I wasn't a spring chicken then and I'm certainly not now, there's every chance something could go wrong." It was pointless discussing it, she had already made up her mind. "I think I should take what happened last time as a sign that motherhood just isn't meant for me."

"That's rubbish and you know it. Miscarriages happen all the time without rhyme or reason and it's horrible and unfair but it shouldn't stop you from trying again."

The pair of them talking about such a sore subject in the bistro of all places reminded Carla of the time she had consoled Nick after Erica's miscarriage. She knew by the look on Nick's face that he was thinking about it too. He reached for her hand. "For what it's worth, I think you'd make an amazing mum."

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

Their hands sprung apart and they looked up to see Rob standing over them looking rather pleased with himself. Carla scowled at him. "What the hell do you want?"

Rob's eyes shifted suspiciously between them. "Is Peter not working today, sis? I wonder what he'd make of all this."

"Make of what?" asked Nick. "We're just two friends having a _private_ conversation."

"Hold hands with all your friends do you, Nick?"

Carla was considering taking a leaf out of Peter's book and punching her brother's lights out. "Is your sole purpose in life to cause trouble?"

At the mention of trouble, Tracy appeared at Rob's side. "You take your fun where you can get it, don't you, babe?" She looked down her nose at Carla and Nick. "So what's all this then? Something we should know about?"

Carla pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Leave it, Trace."

"No, I won't leave it. If you're messing my brother around—"

"You'll what?" Carla challenged her. "Stave my head with a blunt instrument? Torch my flat? Push me off a balcony then finish me off with an iron pole?"

No one had noticed Hanlon. The businessman looked horrified by what he had overheard. "Carla, what are you doing here? I thought you weren't part of the company anymore?"

All heads turned to the man in the wheelchair.

Colour flooded Carla's cheeks. "Oh, I'm not, I…"

Hanlon let out another shocked gasp at the gentleman standing to his left. "Rob Donovan? Blimey, is that you? I thought you were in prison!"

"Not anymore," Rob said, flashing him a confident smile. "As you can see, Dave, I'm a free man."

Rob went to shake Hanlon's hand but Nick beat him to it. "It's great you could make it, Mr Hanlon. Before we talk business, how about I get you a drink?"

However, Hanlon refused the handshake. "You can forget the drink. Our deal's off."

"What?! Why?"

Hanlon side-eyed Rob. "Because I don't like the company you keep."

Hanlon left the restaurant in a huff and Carla ensured Rob and Tracy weren't far behind him. "I don't want to see either of you in here again, do you hear me? You can consider yourselves barred!" She turned to Nick who was hurriedly gathering up his paperwork. "Nick, I'm so sorry…"

"I really needed that contract."

"I can go after him, try to talk to him—"

Nick stood, cutting her off. "No, it's fine. You've done enough."

He shoved the papers into his briefcase and left.

* * *

Having been booted out of the bistro, Tracy and Rob headed back to Mary's where they'd been staying for the past couple of weeks. Tracy had Mary working most days so she and Rob could have the place to themselves. Tracy fixed them something to eat which wasn't quite bistro standard and carried it through to the front room. Rob sat at the table, watching her with a funny expression that Tracy found deeply unsettling. "At the bistro earlier, what was all that Carla was saying about you torching her flat?"

Tracy's carefree smile plummeted, as did her stomach. "Oh, you heard that…"

Rob gave her a serious look, not in the mood for games. "What did you do, Trace?"

Suddenly she felt like a school pupil who'd been summoned before the headmaster. "Rob, look, it was a long time ago…"

"Either you tell me what happened or I'll go ask Carla. The choice is yours."

Tracy could feel herself being backed into a corner of which there was no wriggling out of. What was she supposed to say? 'Oh yeah, funny story about the time I tried to kill your sister.'

"Okay, okay," she relented, coming to sit down. She took a shaky breath, not quite believing what she was about to say. "Okay, so a few years ago I might've accidentally set fire to her flat."

He raised a disbelieving brow. _"Accidentally?"_

"It was just after you'd been sent down for Tina's murder," she explained. "My life was in pieces, I had Michelle on my back chasing me about the money for our non-existent wedding, and then there was Carla…" The feelings of jealousy and resentment Tracy had harboured towards Carla back then came bubbling back to the surface. "…Strutting around in her designer gear, not a care in the world. It made me so mad. Why did she always come out on top? Things kicked off massively the day of Michelle and Steve's wedding," she continued. "Carla cornered me in the Rovers bogs and said something I've never been able to forget."

"What did she say?"

"You'll be all alone till the day they stick you in the ground." Even now those words cut to the bone. "So I stole a key to her flat and let myself in when she was sleeping. It was dark so I lit a candle. Carla was asleep on the couch, drunk probably. And there was this picture of you on the sideboard. You had this big floppy fridge and a baseball cap. You looked so young, so happy, and I remember in that moment this rage coming over me, this hatred…"

Rob looked the most frightened she'd ever seen him. "You were there to kill her weren't you?"

"I thought about it, yeah." Her casual confession shocked Rob but Tracy didn't see any point in sugar-coating things. "I could've killed her if I'd wanted to, I had the perfect opportunity. But I didn't do it. You know why? Because I couldn't!"

"But the very fact it even entered your head! She's my sister! How could you?"

The same anger that had possessed Tracy that night overcame her now and she rose from her seat, banging her fist on the table. "Because I hated her! She ruined our lives. We had everything, Rob. Everything. And she stole it all away! Of course I wanted the bitch dead! I wanted her to rot in hell! But the fact is that when it came down it, I lost my nerve, I _walked_ away." She closed her eyes, a single tear escaping. "But I left the candle burning…" She sank back down into her chair. "The whole of Victoria court went up in flames. Carla got out unscathed like always, but not everyone was so lucky. Two people died."

Rob gulped. "Who?"

"Maddie and Kal."

Saying their names out loud brought the guilt flooding back.

"Maddie…" Rob said her name, frowning. "Yeah, I remember her, she was Sophie's girlfriend. Christ, she was just a kid…"

"I know."

"You killed them, Trace."

"It was an accident!"

"Accident or not, they still died. My sister, my one and only sister, could've died!"

"Amy was in there an' all you know!" Tracy said in an effort to garner some sympathy. "Rob, I know what I did was unspeakable, but I was in a really dark place. It was one moment of madness that I've regretted every day since. Surely you of all people can understand that?"

She looked at him with tears in her eyes, desperately needing him to forgive her. But all she saw looking back at her was disgust. "I haven't got words for you."

And with that, he got up and left, leaving Tracy wondering if he was ever coming back.

* * *

Carla headed home and found Peter rustling up a storm in the kitchen. He smiled over his shoulder as she walked in through the door. "Hiya love, sorry I didn't come back to work but things overran a bit, you know how it is."

Carla hung up her jacket and made her way over to the kitchen. There were pots and pans everywhere. "First breakfast and now dinner. Who are you and what have you done with Peter Barlow?"

He turned away from the hob, draping a tea towel over his shoulder. "Okay, so I have a confession to make…"

"Let me guess. You're not really Peter Barlow, you're his clone?"

He laughed. "You've got a thing for clones, haven't you? No, my confession is I didn't really have a meeting in town today. I lied."

"You lied?" she repeated flatly, her brow arching with suspicion. "So where were you?"

"In town booking our wedding for three weeks' time."

Peter's face erupted into a smile as Carla's jaw slackened. "Three weeks?! Steady on Cowboy! What happened to postponing it?"

"You said we should wait until after the funeral and now that Daniel's home I just figured, why wait?"

"Wow, someone really has been a busy bee."

Peter inched closer to her. "I just thought after all this misery, wouldn't it be nice to give folks something to celebrate? Well, that and the fact I can't for you to be my wife." He gazed into her eyes. "So what do you say? You up for it?"

Carla didn't know what to say. It was all happening so fast and there was still so much left to organise; the cake, the dress, the band…

"Oh, what the hell…" A smile burst onto her face, matching Peter's. "Let's do it!"

She threw her arms around him and he picked her up, spinning her around. A sudden noise made Carla pull back sharply. Her eyes darted about the flat, trying to locate the source of the sound. "Did you hear that? It sounded like…scratching."

Peter grew flustered and let out a nervous chuckle as he palmed the nape of his neck. "Oh, that'll be the other surprise."

Carla's brow arched quizzically. "Other surprise?"

He started backing away towards the bedroom door. "Okay, with this one I need you to try and keep an open mind…"

"Why do I not like the sound of this?"

His hand reached for the handle. "Remember what I said, open mind…"

He pushed down on the handle and the door cracked open. Something small and furry shot out at the speed of light. Paws skidded on polished wood, a collar jangled, a tail wagged, and Carla stiffened. She stared down at it, aghast. "What is _that?"_

"It's a puppy!"

"I can see that," she said. "But what's it doing here, in our home?"

"Well, I saw how torn up you were about Bertie, and I know you said you didn't want us trying for a baby of our own, so I thought—"

"You thought you'd buy me a puppy instead? How thoughtful."

Peter had never looked more sheepish in his whole life. "Surprise!"

Carla was about to tell him to get rid of it when she spotted what it was doing on the rug and gave a shriek of horror. "Peter, it's peeing! Do something quick, that rug's designer!"

Chuckling, Peter picked the puppy up off the floor. It was so small that it fitted easily into the palm of his hand. It was one of those sickeningly adorable puppies that looked like it belonged on the front of a birthday card. Golden fur, big brown eyes, and a pink ribbon around its neck for added cuteness. It licked Peter's face and he laughed, wiping his cheek. "You have to admit, she's pretty cute."

"Cute?!" Carla snorted. "I can think of other words."

"I think someone wants to say hello to mummy…" Peter started towards her, holding out the puppy, and Carla backed away from it like a loaded gun. "Don't bring that thing anywhere near me! I'm serious, Peter. First thing tomorrow you're taking it back to wherever you got it from. Do you hear me?"

Peter set the puppy down and lovingly patted its head. "Don't worry, she'll come around soon enough."

"No, I won't," said Carla stubbornly. "If you want me joining you at the alter then the mutt goes. I'm not messing around here. It's me of the dog, the choice is yours."

She turned away then spun back, laughing. "You know, I thought I was going to walk in tonight and find you still in a sulk but instead I come home to a romantic meal and a flippin' puppy! What does on in that head of yours, Peter? Really, it's a mystery to me!"

She stormed off, dramatically slamming the door behind her so the puppy couldn't follow.

"Don't worry, you're not going anywhere," Peter said to the lively cockapoo. "You're staying right here. Yes, you are. Oh, yes you are."

"I heard that!"

* * *

It was late when Rob returned and Tracy had been about to go to bed. "I was starting to think you weren't coming back."

"I thought about it, believe me." He paused, letting his words settle in the silence, then his hardened gaze softened. "Trouble is I love you too damn much."

He closed the distance between them and brought his arms around her. Tracy had been certain she'd lost him for good this time. Trying to kill his one and only sister wasn't something he was likely to forgive. She searched his eyes. "So… are we okay?"

"We'll always be okay, Trace," he said and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. "In future, just don't go lighting any candles."

* * *

**Author's note: Thanks for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 – We need to talk about Daniel

The puppy tripped in its rush to greet Carla as she stepped out of the bedroom. She gave a sigh of dismay as it jumped up at her. "It's still here then?"

She didn't pay it the slightest bit of attention as she joined Peter at the breakfast table. "I'll take her for a walk after I finish this," Peter said, gesturing to the half-eaten slice of toast in his hand.

"Okay, then after that you can take it back to the puppy farm, or the rescue shelter, or wherever the hell it was you got it from."

"I was kind of hoping you might've changed your mind now you've had a chance to sleep on it."

Carla nearly spat out her coffee. "Sleep?! Fat chance of any sleep with that thing whining and scratching at the door all night! And they say babies are bad!"

There was a knock at the door and Peter went to answer it. Simon appeared in his school uniform, his rucksack slung casually over one shoulder, and the puppy bolted towards him. He knelt down and fussed the cockapoo as it jumped up at him, smothering him with licks.

Peter smiled at the heartwarming scene. "What do you think, Si?"

"Dad, she's awesome! What's her name?"

Peter looked sheepishly down at his feet. "About that…"

"She hasn't got one."

Simon's attention turned to Carla who was sat at the table doing her makeup. He laughed. "What do you mean she hasn't got one? She needs a name!"

"I wouldn't get too attached if I were you," she warned him as she powdered her nose. "We're not keeping it."

"Aww, what? Why not?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because," Carla said, irritated at the boy's persistence, "I've got a reputation for skinning puppies, not walking them once round the Red Rec."

"But you won't have to walk her. I'll walk her, every day, twice a day! Please, just don't get rid of her! I've always wanted a dog."

"It's a good thing you've got Eccles then, isn't it?"

"That's hardly the same thing," Simon moaned. "She's grandad's dog. I mean a dog of my own."

He looked at his dad for some support but Peter simply shrugged. "I'm sorry, son. I tried my best, but this is Carla's call."

"Come on, Carla, please let us keep her. I'll never ask you for anything ever again. No computer games, birthday presents, Christmas presents…"

Carla laughed. "Can I get that in writing?"

"You do know I was bullied last year, right?"

"Oh great, now the emotional blackmail card!" Carla looked at the teenager who was giving her bigger puppy dog eyes than the puppy itself and she felt her resolve weakening. She slammed her makeup brush down in a dramatic fashion. "Alright, here's the dealio. I'm going to give you a week's trial. And if you do all the things you said you were going to do, like walk her every day, then maybe, just maybe, I'll consider keeping her. Sound fair enough to you?"

In a surprise move, Simon ran up to her and flung his arms around her, kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you! You're the best! You won't regret this!"

"I already am…"

Simon snatched the dog's lead off the counter. "In fact I'll take her for a walk now. I can do a quick loop around the block before the bus gets here."

"Not a bad idea that," said Peter. "Let me just grab my jacket and I'll join you."

"Err no you won't." Carla chucked over the set of keys for the bistro and Peter caught them with surprise. "You can open up and I'll go for the walk. I could do with the exercise."

* * *

Carla's heels clapped noisily down the pavement as she and Simon walked side by side down the terraced street. The puppy led the way, pulling on the lead, its tail wagging merrily along. Simon shot a look at Carla's six-inch heels. "Did you really have to wear those shoes?"

"Yes, I did! I've got work after this." The puppy squatted up ahead and a wicked grin appeared on Carla's face. "Oh dear, looks like nature calls. You can pick that up for us can't you, Si?"

"Me? I'm not picking that up, no way! Gross!"

Carla stopped walking and her brow rose in an intimidating manner. "I hope you're not forgetting our little deal? You promised to walk her – this is all part of that package." She handed him a doggy bag from her pocket. "You'll need this."

Simon snatched the bag out of her hand and walked over to the poo, pinching his nose and cursing under his breath as he bent down to pick it up. "I can't believe you're making me do this, it's child cruelty…"

"Stop making such a big song and dance about it and just get on with it would you?"

Simon pulled a face as he scooped it up. He stood up, tying the bag, and dangled it in front of her face. "There! Did it!"

Carla grimaced, batting his hand away. "Well done you brave, brave boy. Now go find a bin."

"Cruella DeVil, Cruella DeVil, if she doesn't scare you, no evil thing will…"

Carla looked around for the source of the singing and spotted Rob and Tracy crossing the street towards her. The instant Simon saw them he thrust the lead into Carla's hand and took off. Carla shouted after him, "Simon, where are you going? Simon, get back here!"

Rob hung his head low as he stood before her. "That probably has something to do with me being here."

Tracy nudged him in an effort to cheer him up. "Don't worry about it, babe. Simon will come around soon enough. Amy will too. You'll see."

They became aware of the puppy jumping up at them and Rob's smile returned. He bent down and fussed it and the puppy surrendered to his charm, rolling onto its back so Rob could tickle its belly. "Who's this little fella then? Business isn't that bad that you're having to do a bit of dog sitting to get by?"

"Peter bought it as a surprise if you must know," said Carla somewhat reluctantly. "It's staying the week then it's going back to wherever it came from."

Tracy elbowed Rob as he stood up. "Hey, she couldn't keep the baby so Peter's had to get her a dog instead!"

Tracy's laughter turned into a squeal of horror when she looked down and saw the puppy was taking a leak on her leather boots. "Oh my God, it's peeing on me! Rob do something, it's peeing on me!"

"Oh dear, so it is," said Carla, trying not to laugh. She gave the lead a gentle tug and carried on down the street with a victorious grin. "Good girl. You good girl!"

As she passed the factory, she spotted Daniel coming out of the corner shop. She waved at him but he didn't appear in the mood to stop. "Daniel," she said, deciding to chase after him. "Daniel!"

He plastered on a smile. "Oh, hi…"

She looked him up and down. "You're committing the ultimate sin you know, parading the streets in your jimjams. There's no greater shame is there?"

He laughed, a little embarrassed. "Well, I was kind of hoping no one would see me." He pointed at the dog clawing at his leg. "That's new…"

"Oh, don't ask," Carla said with a roll of her eyes. "Peter bought it as a surprise. We're not keeping it."

"I've never been much of a dog person myself," said Daniel.

"No, me neither. So anyway, how are you? Are you taking care of yourself?"

Carla could clearly see that he wasn't. The monstrosity growing on his face hadn't seen a razor in weeks and the heavy bags drooping under his eyes were a clear indication he hadn't been sleeping. Still, Daniel was never one to admit when he was struggling. He shrugged. "Oh, you know, I'm soldiering on." He nodded to the plastic shopping bag in his hand. "Just nipped out for some milk."

Carla noted the shopping bag but saw no evidence of milk. She did, however, see the outline of several wine bottles. She knew Daniel's game. He had no doubt palmed Bertie onto Beth and Kirk so he could spend the day getting bladdered in the flat. It wasn't her place to judge him though, not after everything he'd been through. Instead she tried to keep the conversation light. "And where's that gorgeous boy of yours this morning?"

Daniel swayed slightly, already a little tipsy. "Bertie's um, he's err…" The question gave him pause and he scratched his head. "Oh, he's upstairs!"

It took a moment for what he said to register. When it did, Carla's eyes widened. "Upstairs? You mean you left him on his own?!"

Daniel didn't appear the least bit fazed. "Chill out, the shop's only downstairs, it's hardly child neglect. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got stuff to do."

He pushed past her but Carla followed after him. "Like what? Getting drunk on your own?"

"Don't know what you're on about."

"I'm not an idiot, Daniel. I can see there's booze in the bag."

They'd reached Daniel's flat and he was fumbling about trying to fit the key in the lock. When he finally managed to get it open, he stumbled inside, the wine bottles clanging noisily in the shopping bag. He went to close the door but Carla stuck out her foot, stopping it from closing. She smiled at him through the narrow crack. "Daniel, listen, why don't you let me up and I'll make us a brew? We can have a proper talk about things?"

"No thank you. I just want to be left alone."

"But I don't think you should be on your own."

"And with all due respect, I don't care what you think." He kicked her foot out of the doorway and slammed it shut in her face.

* * *

The rest of the morning Carla was unable to concentrate. All she could think about was Daniel and Bertie. It didn't go unnoticed by Peter. He'd finally had enough and slammed the booking's book closed, snapping her out of her daze. "Alright, enough of already. What's going on with you?"

"What makes you think something's going on with me?"

"Because you've messed up every order you've taken, you've barely cracked a smile, and every time I look over, you're staring into space. What's going on, Carla? Is this about the dog?"

She rolled her eyes at the last part. "No, it's not about the dog. It's Daniel. I'm worried about him."

"Aren't we all?"

"I mean_ really_ worried. I saw him coming out of Dev's this morning with booze. He looked dreadful."

"Love, the man's just lost his wife. I think he's entitled to a drink or two."

"And normally I'd agree, but he's got a baby to look after." She couldn't ignore the bad feeling eating away at her any longer. "Peter, something's not right. I can feel it."

They had spent the last ten minutes standing on the street below Daniel's flat. They knew he was home because they could hear music playing. Peter impatiently rammed his finger on the buzzer. "Daniel! We know you're in there! Stop messing about and let us up!"

Dev came whirring around the street corner. "What's with all the screaming and shouting? Some of us are trying to work here."

"We think Daniel's in trouble," Peter said breathlessly, starting to panic. "Have you got a spare key?"

Dev selected a key off the chain he had clipped to his belt and handed it to Peter. "This one's for the front door, I think."

The key slid into the lock and Peter rushed inside, racing up the stairs with Carla hot on his tail. They reached the top of the stairs and found the door to the flat already ajar.

Inside the flat, all the lights were off and the curtains were drawn. The only source of light came from the TV where an image of Sinead was frozen on the screen. Heavy metal music blasted from the stereo and over its deafening roar they could hear a baby crying.

Peter switched on the light, revealing the true extent of Daniel's suffering. There were half-drunk bottles of wine discarded on the worktops, a mountain of dirty dishes stacked in the sink, and worst of all, on the kitchen table, was a bag of suspicious-looking white powder.

Peter and Carla both looked at each other, then Peter cried, "Go get the baby!"

Carla raced down the darkened hallway into Bertie's bedroom and found him wriggling about in his cot, red-faced from all his screeching. "It's alright, I'm here," she said, scooping him up in her arms.

She headed back into the hallway and found Peter hammering on the bathroom door. "Daniel, open up! Daniel, I won't ask you again!"

Carla felt the panic rising in her chest. "Peter, kick it down!"

He made her stand back before charging at the door, using his shoulder for added force. After three attempts, it flew open and Peter rushed inside. Carla didn't dare follow. She was terrified of finding Daniel how she had found Aidan. She couldn't face seeing that again. Peter gave a cry that made her blood run cold. "Call an ambulance!"

* * *

Three agonising hours later and they were still waiting for news. Peter couldn't stop fidgeting. His fingers drummed impatiently on the armrest while next to him Carla bounced Bertie on her knee in an effort to keep him quiet. Finally a nurse approached and Peter was quick to his feet. "This is ridiculous, we've been here ages. What's going on? How is he?"

"I can take you to Mr Osbourne now if you'd like to follow me."

The nurse went to turn away but Peter caught her arm, blinking at her like he hadn't properly heard what she'd said. "Wait, so… he's alright?"

She nodded. "He's been very lucky."

Peter's knees nearly gave out from under him and he let out a tearful smile before throwing his arms around the unsuspecting nurse. "Oh, thank you… thank you!"

The nurse led them down a busy corridor before stopping outside of Daniel's room, blocking the entrance. "Before I let you go in there, I'm afraid there's something I must ask you. Here at the hospital we're under no obligation to inform the authorities of Mr Osbourne's drug abuse. However we are inclined to do so if we feel a child is in danger." She nodded to the baby in Carla's arms. "Is that Mr Osbourne's child?"

"No, he's ours." Carla said it without a flicker of hesitation.

The nurse looked at Peter to corroborate Carla's story and he found himself nodding along. Satisfied, the nurse stepped aside. "In that case, you better go on through."

Carla and Peter sat either side of the bed. Daniel was awake and propped up by several pillows. Once the nurse left the room, Peter dropped all pretences. "What the hell were you thinking? Taking drugs when there's a baby asleep next door! Just what were you trying to achieve? Did you want to kill yourself, is that it?"

"That's enough," Carla hissed. She lovingly stroked Daniel's hand. "How are you feeling, kid?"

"Throat's a little sore," said Daniel, his voice hoarse and gravelly from lack of use.

Carla eyed the jug of water behind Peter. "Would you mind?"

Peter poured some into a plastic cup and held it to Daniel's mouth as he took small sips. Daniel signalled with his eyes that he'd had enough and Peter set the cup down. Daniel reached out towards Bertie who sat in Carla's lap. Touching Bertie's little hand, it suddenly hit Daniel how stupid he had been and he started to cry. "I'm sorry, Bertie. Daddy's really, really sorry."

"And so you should be," snarled Peter. "What would've happened if we hadn't come to check on you eh? You'd be dead, and Bertie? What would've happened to him? How could you be so flamin' stupid!"

"Peter, this isn't helping."

"No, he needs to hear this! This self-pity trip ends now. We could grass you up to social services and you wouldn't have a leg to stand on! You'd be looking at time in prison and Bertie would be taken into care. Is that what you want? Is it?!"

"No!"

"Then buck your ideas up! Once the hospital discharges you you're going straight to rehab. We've booked you into a clinic and you're not leaving until you've got yourself sorted out."

"But what about Bertie?" Daniel asked. "Who's going to look after him?"

"Bertie stays with us," said Peter.

Daniel shook his head. "But he's my son. He belongs with me!"

"And as you've proved by today's little adventure, you're incapable of looking after him."

"This is only temporary," Carla tried to reassure Daniel. "We're thinking of what's best for Bertie and for you. We're giving you the opportunity to clean yourself up, to be the best dad you can be, but the fightback needs to start now."

There was a long reluctant silence before Daniel finally spoke. "Fine, I'll go to rehab. I'll do whatever it takes."

* * *

The cockapoo greeted Carla with a wagging tail as she walked through the door with Bertie asleep in her arms. "A baby and a puppy," she laughed. "How are we going to cope?"

"I'm glad you're taking all this on the chin," said Peter, storming past her and grabbing himself a bottle of water from the fridge, though she could tell he wished it was something stronger. "I'm furious at him Carla, I really am. I mean, how could he be so stupid? He's the only parent that kid's got left. What was he thinking?"

"He was depressed, grieving, missing Sinead…" She shrugged helplessly. "He made a terrible mistake."

"Yeah well, he shouldn't be allowed in charge of a kid if you ask me."

"And what if people had said that about you after you burnt down your flat?"

"That was different."

"How?"

Peter grappled for an answer before admitting defeat. "Fine, maybe it wasn't but that fire was my wake-up call. I'm telling you now, if Daniel doesn't come back from rehab a changed man, I'm calling social services myself and we're getting custody. God, I need a cig."

Half an hour later Peter returned from the balcony and found Carla sat on the sofa in her pyjamas, feeding Bertie his bottle. She looked up at him as he closed the sliding glass doors. "That was the longest fag break known to man."

"Sorry. I just needed to clear my head." He joined her on the sofa and gave Bertie a playful beep on the nose. "How's he doing?"

"Oh, he's doing just fine. Quite happy with his bottle."

"Listen, I'm sorry for getting so riled up. I just can't stop thinking about how differently things might've turned out if we hadn't gone round there when we did. Daniel would be a goner and this little one… well… it doesn't even bear thinking about."

"He's safe and so is Daniel. That's all that matters."

Peter noticed the ball of golden fur curled up next to her. "Hang on a minute, I thought you said the dog was banned from the sofa?"

"Yeah well, tonight's an exception."

Peter smiled and playfully bumped her shoulder. "I think she's growing on you."

"Taking a leak on your sister's leg certainly brought her up in my estimations."

"Don't you think it's time we gave her a name? We can't keep calling her 'it'. You got any ideas?"

"How about smelly? Or whiney? Both sound like good names to me."

"Simon suggested Sadie. What do you think?"

"Sadie." Carla liked the way it rolled off her tongue. "Yeah, it's not too bad."

"That's settled then. Sadie it is."

Peter found himself marvelling at the sight before him. If someone had told him a year ago that this would be his life, he never would have believed it. He started to laugh and Carla stared at him, frowning. "What's so funny?"

"It's this… us. We've not even married yet and we've already got a kid and a dog. We always do things backwards, you and me."

"Yeah, well, we'll make it work. We always do."

It was refreshing to see a woman so used to being in control letting go of the reins and rolling with the punches for a change. Peter didn't think he had ever loved her as much as he did right at this moment. His eyes beamed with love and affection. "You're amazing, you know that? Amazing."

* * *

**Author's note: Thanks for reading!**


End file.
